Puppets
by Schpwuette
Summary: Spin-off of Hieronym's To the Stars. Power is absolute in Theatre City, until a young girl makes a wish for the sake of her friend's future.
1. Contract

In case you haven't read To the Stars (go read it), here's what you need to know for this story:

- It's set in the future (this story takes place in ~2370, about 90 years before To the Stars); Earth is a maturing utopia.

- The MSY is a humanity-wide organisation of magical girls, working closely with the Incubators to keep things secret and maximise entropy mitigation—preventing the heat-death of the universe.

- Governance is the complex web of upgraded humans, and provably benevolent AIs, that governs Earth and all official colonies.

- Governance has, in the name of cultural diversity, allowed a number of groups to set up their own unattached colonies, dedicating only a minimum of surveillance, and occasional spot-checks, to ensure that the Core Rights (of both humans and AIs) are being kept sacrosanct. The MSY puts in its own effort, for similar humanitarian reasons.

Neither are omnipotent, however, and sometimes things go wrong...

* * *

Contract

A dark alleyway, sky just beginning to lighten.

"Looks like we bit off more than we could chew," a woman clad in red raised her eyes, looking away from the pair of egg-shaped, darkened jewels resting before her. They were surrounded by a loose circle of black cubes. Despite the flowing trails of corruption leading out from the gems to the cubes, the jewels seemed to only get darker.

"We? I was handling my group just fine, thanks. Work on your crowd control!" this from a lady in blue. The two, sitting with their backs to opposite sides of the alley, could not differ more in appearance.

Red sighed. "It's a little late for that now, don't you think?" she nudged one of the cluster of dark cubes with her foot. "It's strange. There were so many," a glance at her ravaged torso—deep, raw gashes; several holes burnt all the way through; purple-black bruising seen through the rents in her clothing—"You don't think we... missed something?"

"What are you on about? It's been that way for years. It's more interesting like that anyhow. Can you imagine, fifty years of hunting standard packs? I'd die of depression!" Blue shifted slightly, taking weight off an arm sheathed in cracked metal. "Besides, the people seem fine. The nights have been peaceful, police are everywhere—what am I making excuses for! They aren't even our responsibility. We keep the demons down, and we do a damn good job of it!"

"Until now, at least,"

"Well... the Incubators won't let anything really bad happen, right?" Blue lifted her head to glance at the feline alien. It was silently watching their conversation from the entrance of the alleyway.

Red, unblinking eyes.

_It would be a terrible waste of contractable population._

"Right! See? You Incubators are all softies at heart," Blue laughed, "nothing to worry about, Xiao Lei!"

"Don't call me that," spat Jinglei. She paused, her sudden frown easing. "Oh, fine," she sighed, "call me what you want. We're about done here after all." She blinked at her gem, now tarnished to the point that it seemed to be a window into a red-starred night.

"Hah! You're damn right I will. I always win in the end, eh!" She took a breath to continue her gloating, but was cut off by a sudden fit of coughing. Blood spattered. "Ugh." _Telepathy is easier anyway._

"Gabrielle..." with another sigh, Jinglei leant her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

The Incubator stayed to watch as the two silently finished their conversation, not moving an inch until they finally vanished forever. Standing, it padded over to collect the gently pulsing grief cubes, before it, too, vanished.

* * *

...

* * *

Shattered gravel crunched beneath her feet, the sun's blaze beat down on her shoulders, the thick, sweet air tore through her throat as she gasped for breath, running, running, she couldn't stop, or slow, she had to get there in time—even if she could do nothing, really, she had to get there in time.

It was early afternoon now, but it had been lunch when she had heard what had happened. She had just come back from the Felwater kitchens, where she shoveled coal for a mere handful of credits a day...

* * *

Ash strolled up the steps of her best friend Lily's home, happy to have lasted through a day's work unmolested, wiped her soot-stained palms on her shorts, and opened the unlocked door. Inside, her good mood vanished like smoke as she saw Lily's mother, sobbing, held by her tall husband, his face drawn, lined with stress. The tiny sisters not understanding, the younger brother grim, grey faced. Tom, the brother, looked up as Ash eased the door open, ran over to grab her hand and dragged her across the room, past the big table, to his father.

"W-what's happened?" Ash, beginning to feel the crawl of panic near her heart. "Where's Lily?"

Her friend's mother heaved another sob, and buried her face in Peter's shoulder, "Just one hour past," began Peter, gravely, calmly, claiming his place as the Channel family's stable rock "we were visited by auctioneers-" Ash gasped, "-they had scouted Lily during her rounds yesterday-"

"Where did they take her?!" the dark haired girl interrupted, gripping his sleeve.

He laid his heavy gaze on her, silent for a moment. "I don't think I should tell you that, Ash."

The girl narrowed her eyes.

"You're thirteen years old, Ash. There's nothing you can do," a brief pause, "there's nothing _we_ can do."

Ash spun on her heel and sprinted out, making damn sure to slam the door behind her.

* * *

She paced restlessly back and forth in front of the old, dry fountain—a relic of more hopeful times, back when the inhabitants of Theatre City thought they were building a paradise—burning to do something, but with nothing to do. Nothing she could do. She couldn't bear it, she could barely think it. The thoughts were scorching hot, forcing her to flinch away—Lily, the Lily she had protected countless times, tall, brave Lily, from whom she had beaten back snide bullies, stray dogs, the grasping hands of adults with no principles, _that_ Lily was going to be... to be... just like...

... Laughing Lily, who tried countless times to teach short, graceless Ash how to dance; watching her stumble and trip through the delicate steps, eyes full of laughter, but never laughing _at _her. Brave Lily, who placed so much faith in Ash, who was never hurt before Ash could reach her. And now, caught Lily, caught by the grasping hands of adults with no principles—but these adults were serving nobles, and nobles were Not to be denied. Lily was now too far for Ash to reach—much too far. _Nothing she could do._

She kicked a stone, feeling tears on her cheeks, ignoring the bored glances of passers-by and the silent, metal presence of a police droid—something she'd usually go out of her way to avoid. If she could just know where they had taken her then at least, at least she could say good-bye. If only she could know, it wouldn't have to be like-

_Wei Auction House, in the southern part of Wei Gang's district._

A voice in her head. Oddly childish, almost playful.

...

She decided not to think. She acted.

Kicking off the ground, she sprinted to the end of the road, passing the Channel house—no-one was looking out of the window—and turned onto a main street. She knew the way—she had lived in the city her whole life, and children such as her were rarely happy to be confined to a single district. She had dragged Lily with her to all sorts of interesting corners of this gnarled town, and a huge place like Wei Auction House was hardly tucked in a corner. In fact, it was a menacing presence to be avoided, almost impossible not to notice. A place to be avoided—showing oneself to a noble was never a good idea. Saying good-bye to Lily would not be an easy feat. But if she could manage, maybe it would hurt less. Perhaps she would feel less empty.

She ran down a road lined with shattered gravel, breathing harshly now. She was no stranger to running, but Wei district was a long way from Felwater. A whole three districts lay between them, and nobles—along with their various entourages of questionable friends, sycophantic lackies and servile attendants—were the only ones allowed any kind of quick transport. It was to their advantage to keep people anchored to a district.

The day was hot, and the air—here in the slums strung thinly between districts—reeked of humans. She ran and ran, she had to see Lily one last time. Even if saying good-bye changed nothing, at least then she might not feel so lost. At least then it wouldn't be like mama... Mama, who disappeared from her life, sold to the Felwater house as a _mistress_. In three years of working there, she had not even caught a glimpse...

And now Lily was going to suffer the same fate. Not even fifteen years of age, Lily was going to be auctioned off to a noble to be a... mistress. To be used like a toy, until she was broken. Ash could not bear it, and so she ran.

She ran and ran, brushing past workers just finishing their lunch break, hopping a rail-crossing, skidding round corners, taking shortcut after shortcut, through narrow alleys and over neglected garden walls.

She ran until she came at last to South Wei, and there she stopped running. She must not be noticed. Showing oneself to a noble was never a good idea. The day was bright, and she was grimy and sweaty, still breathing hard. Not ideal conditions for going unnoticed, but she knew a way nevertheless. Wei Auction House was a place to be avoided, and kids like Ash love going nowhere more than places that must be avoided. This was familiar ground. She clambered up a building wall, feet scraping and slipping before finding purchase in the cracks between the bricks, grasping a drainage pipe, a protruding brick, the edge of the overhang, before finally hauling herself onto the smooth, sloping tiles of the roof. Moving low, almost crawling, she made her way, hopping gaps and finding bridges until she reached the semi-circle of buildings that enclosed the auction house plaza.

Running low to the far end of this half, she crouched for a moment, worried. She had been here before several times, but never during an auction. Never when the building was packed with nobles; the guards on high alert, every systems AI bending all of their considerable will to keeping the area safe. Not usually one to hesitate, Ash felt something deep inside her flinch away from the coming task. Just as the pressure of impending failure threatened to crush her resolve, she heard, once more, a voice—

_You can go. The machines won't notice you. Just stay out of sight._

Her muscles coiled with fear, she carefully looked about herself. She couldn't see anything. Well, if it had helped her once... and she had to get to Lily... With an uncomfortable feeling in her gut, she chose to trust the words, and dropped off the long roof, landing with a roll. She was now standing behind the House, near the goods entrance, but past the guards at the back gate.

There would be more guards standing inside the back door, but she wasn't going that way. Casting a glance towards the obvious lens of a surveillance device—there mostly to serve as a message, what with the majority of such security being well hidden—she jogged across the intricately decorated paving stones up to the vast glass and marble building. Throwing another nervous look over her shoulder, she continued round the side before crouching, lifting a cover and dropping down into a drainage channel. She was careful not to let the thick grate shut too heavily.

Heart pounding, she made her way slowly down the dark, low-ceilinged tunnel. It was lined with smooth metal plates, fit flush together. It smelled slightly of chemicals—Ash could not discern what kind. She took extreme care to tread lightly, as she knew sound echoed quite nicely in this channel. She had made it this far, fingers making a light scraping noise as they trailed along the wall, but she had no idea what to do next. She could watch from here... but how could she say good-bye?

Creeping as quietly as she could, flinching a little at every slight echo of a footstep, she continued until she was standing beneath another grating, this one long and quite thin, gently curving, set into a gutter that wrapped some distance from the semi-circular main stage. Raising herself carefully, she peered through the grate until she could just about see the auction stage.

* * *

It was already in progress.

A colossal, richly decorated chamber; the stage at one end; tiered seats at the other, curving around with four stairways, set at regular intervals, separating the seating area into chunks. The floor was a pale cream, marbled rock; the ceiling a sweeping white arch set with huge, perfectly transparent highlights. Pieces of art were scattered on the walls: copies of the most famous paintings sold previously in this very auction house, among them the distinctively strange and jarring visions of AI-authored art.

Sitting on the plushly cushioned wooden seats, a crowd of nobles with the occasional attendant, slave or personal whore—some chained, either restrained or linked to their master; some collared—usually a discreet smooth black ring fitted to the neck with no visible means of removal; and some simply stood or sat with glazed eyes staring at nothing. A number of armed police lined the front and back walls. There were far more men than women, among the nobles—this was an auction for female merchandise, after all.

Five girls left, they cowered, or slumped with dull eyes. Stark naked except for the smooth collars adorning their necks, and ordered to stand with hands at their sides, they had left no shred of dignity or hope to shield themselves with. Only the fourth in line was standing tall, almost proudly, chin set, fists clenched—Lily had not yet given up. She was attracting a lot of attention. Most nobles would love the chance to break such a person, though some might not have the patience.

Ash choked back a sob. This was real, really happening, and Lily was standing there like she always did, waiting bravely for Ash to defend her or rescue her. As she stared, trying to understand what Lily's absence from her life would mean for her, the first girl, standing forward of the small group, was sold. The groans of losers, and the laughter of those who felt the winner had paid far too much, filled the cavernous room. The auction winner simply stood up from his seat, spoke one word, "Come," and left the building. Apparently he was done for the day. The girl followed without question, unrestrained, stumbling slightly.

The second girl in line was short and slight, like Ash, but with long blonde hair that was more reminiscent of Lily's. She was hunched, red eyed from crying, face smeared by tears. She could not have been more than fourteen years old. There was a pause in the proceedings as the auctioneer stepped up to laud her 'gentle beauty and demure disposition'. The girl then came forward, and Ash felt her heartbeat pound faster, her breath quicken with trembling, impotent rage. _What can I do!? Is there really nothing I can do?_

The crowd was roaring, some shouting offers even as they logged them electronically, others arguing furiously with neighbours.

"4,000 credits!"

"I tell you, she's worth it, just look at her!"

"4,050!"

"Hah! Cheapskate"

"Raise your leg!" called out a large man sitting near the front row—prime seats—and directed at the girl being sold. It was not a command, merely a request—the young girl would have to carry it out of her own will. Jeers and laughter pounded against the stage as the little blonde shook her head desperately, coughing out a sob. Suddenly she winced horribly, clutched at her collar, staggered back a step. Then, visibly shaking, she slowly raised her leg.

More jeering, laughter and now catcalls.

"Hmph. Vulgar pigs" this muttered by a lady in middling seats, before she logged her own offer in the system. Ash ground her teeth and dug her nails into her palms, tears squeezed from the corners of her tightly shut eyes. Helpless. Hopeless.

The girl was finally sold, and stumbled to the edge of the stage. She slipped, tripping off the stage, and fell hard to the ground. It was just too much—she burst into great wracking wails, to the great amusement of the crowd, before finally—perhaps taking pity, or simply running out of patience—her new owner sent a pair of mental commands. Reacting to the first immediately, she stopped crying, picked herself up and walked with measured steps to her new master's side. The second ordered her collar to administer appropriate calming drugs. She would learn to enjoy her new life.

Shaking with horror and bitter helplessness at the sick games they were playing, and with only one girl left before Lily was made to endure the same, Ash felt the panic settle firmly, crushingly over her heart. Barely able to keep herself from gasping loudly for air, she strained to remain safe and hidden. _There has to be something I can do!_

_There _is_ something you can do._

This time she was almost ready for it. Surpressing a slight jump of surprise, she looked to the side, cheeks smeared with teary grime, where for some reason she felt the voice had come from. There, sitting like a cat, a strange white creature. Like a cat, with strange, long ears. Red eyes and red markings, and a pair of golden hoops floating apparently unattached around the long ears. It cocked its head. _Make a contract with me. Wish for something. Anything._

Mind clouded by panic, despair and now surprise, Ash could only stare. Above, the third girl was sold—a tall young woman with an eastern cast to her face, and long straight black hair, she would have been a striking figure were she not hunched over, glassy eyed—and Lily stepped forward, still strong, back straight.

"W-wish for... anything?" the wiry girl murmured, almost to herself.

_Yes._

"Then... then...!" She heard, above, offers begin being called, price starting to rise higher and higher, "m-make them leave Lily alone!"

Red eyes gleamed.

_Done._

Searing, pounding pain throbbed behind her eyes, tore at her heart, burned through her limbs—for a split moment—and a bright, deep red light shone in the dark channel, its source an egg-shaped iridesence.

_Take it, _said the cat-thing, _it is your destiny._

She reached a hand out, feeling a strange warmth and familiarity from the glowing object, and closed her fist.

A series of staccato _bangs_, and she watched in a detached kind of horror as the white creatures's head apparently disappeared, the body flopping to the floor, accompanied by an explosion of splintering agony in her right shoulder. She whimpered in pain, grabbing at her arm and collapsing to the floor. Above, nobles blinked as a small girl appeared out of nowhere on their internal maps. Another series of bangs sounded, shattering holes into the wall of the tunnel opposite the stage.

"Ashley Rake! Stay where you are!" a man's voice bellowed from the chamber. Lily's gasp. The heavy tramp of guards' feet, the rustle and murmur of a curious crowd.

Ash recognized it for what it was—a command—but strangely, she felt only the pain of her wound. A pain that, come to think of it, didn't seem to matter very much. She began to crawl, dragging her body across the hard, now bloody floor, until she felt confident enough to rise to her feet and stagger back the way she came, the fingers of her right hand white-knuckle tight around the shiny red egg. A shallow wash of chemical-laden water, automatically triggered, flowed past her feet, cleaning away the blood.

In the main hall, nobles were now talking frantically among themselves, a strange thread of fear winding through the room—the girl was _moving_—how could someone ignore a direct command? Guards were sprinting for the backstage doors.

Ash made it back to the 'entrance' grate, reached up with her left hand to shove it open, then gripped the edge of the hole and pulled herself up with shocking ease. Glancing around, she jumped a little when she heard the back door burst open, and in a panic, sprinted to the wall and _leapt_ over it, landing on the long roof of the semi-circle of buildings again. Consciously deciding to ignore the strangeness of her ability, she sprinted, leapt, and lunged her way across the rooftops until she felt safe, at which point she promptly collapsed, exhausted, barely even noticing the sharp cuts of pain from her gunshot wound. She curled herself up, shaking but not breathing heavily, tucked into a hollow between a square chimney and a sloping roof. Her eyelids shut, and her thoughts returned to Lily.

_I hope the wish was enough to save her_. She should have made sure of things, she thought, but after those shots she could only know her intent to live. Had she heard Lily's surprise after the noble's command? It would have had to have been terribly loud... but come to think of it, she could hear an awful lot tucked away in this corner. People in the streets, walking, talking, clothes rustling; the hum of a railcar—was there a rail near here...?—a frantic scrabble of tiny paws somewhere below her.

And as her consciousness finally waned, she heard soft padding footfalls approach. Like a cat.

_Don't worry. They won't find you while I'm here._

* * *

**Notes: Ok, so this chapter gets pretty disturbing. Know that this is the exception, not the rule. It probably won't be the only exception though.**

**This is also my first effort at writing a story of my own, hope it goes well. Criticism welcome.**

**Thanks to Hieronym for the help with keeping my spin-off consistent with TtS, for the advice, and for saving the mess that was the first version of this chapter. I learnt a lot, from that.**


	2. Grief

Grief

Surfacing from a deep sleep—first the darkness of returning consciousness, then slowly self-awareness... and with that, the senses—hearing the soft breath of wind skimming over the nearby rooftops, noticing the night-time absence of city bustle, and feeling like she had managed to jam her body against every available nearby stony corner, Ash awoke. She groaned. Confused to find herself most emphatically not in her comfy bed, she blinked open her eyes—and became oddly transfixed by the simple dirty slate roof before her. It seemed like she could see every ridge, crinkle and scratch; every grain of dust; there were even some incredibly tiny crawly things she had never noticed before scrabbling in the dry mud. Shifting her right hand beneath her, the girl lifted herself up.

"Huh?" She shook her short-haired head, rubbed her eyes and blinked several times. Nothing changed. In fact, her right hand, in contact with the roof, seemed to feel an unbelievable amount of detail in the stone beneath it. She would even bet she could map it without much effort. Lifting the hand, she stared again, first at the tile that was underneath it, and then transferring her gaze to her palm—here, too, an incredible picture presented itself. And now, taking a calming breath through her nose, the smells-

_You humans are strange._

"Ah!" She whipped around. "You! You're not dead? I saw your head get blown off!" The white creature from yesterday was sitting sedately on the same chimney she had used as a windbreak that night.

_My body is just one part of me, losing it is not a major issue._

"Huh..." She stared. Now that she looked closer, it was not quite as cat-like as she had at first thought. The head was the wrong shape—wider, with no snout to speak of; and the tail was thick and fluffy, similar to a fox's. There was a neat red oval adorning its back, a smaller white patch in the middle, and of course, there were those _bizarre_ ears. "What are you?"

_Call me Inky._

"But... you're white."

_Yes?_

"Um, nevermind. So? What are you?"

_The one who granted your wish. I'm here to help you. There wasn't time to explain earlier, but the contract has changed you. Perhaps you have already begun to notice?_

"You still didn't answer my question," she pouted.

Inky stared. _Persistent, aren't you. I'm an alien._

"Wow! And how are you talking like that?"

_It's telepathy. You can do it too._

"Eh! I can?"

_Yes, it's easy. Just do it, you don't need to think about it._

_Like this? Oh!_ She frowned. "I think I like talking better."

_Suit yourself. Now, as I was saying... Our contract has changed you. I should explain things._

"Is that why I can see so much more?"

_Yes. Your senses have been greatly improved. Your body is faster, stronger, and heals much more quickly and completely._ Ash brought a hand to her right shoulder, suddenly recalling the injury, and found only smooth skin through the torn shirt. She glanced down at herself—she was absolutely filthy, covered in dirt, grime, grease stains, soot from her job, dried blood from her wound, and dust that had blown over her as she slept. _But there's a much more important change that we must talk about. Look at your left hand._

She did so. "A ring? Where did that come from?"

_Do you remember the shining gem from the contract? It changed into that ring. Change it back._

"How? Ahh... oh, like this," with a flash, her soul gem materialised in the palm of her hand. It was a bright red, adorned with gold filigree and topped with a tiny golden heart. The jewel's surface was marred by blotches of black. "It's... cute," she said with a distasteful expression.

_You dislike the sight of it because it is currently unhealthy. You need to refresh yourself. That gem—your soul gem—is a vital part of you now. You must take good care of it. Stand up._

She stood.

_Now, don't think, just do—I want you to transform._

She transformed.

A burst of red light, and her clothes disappeared—replaced momentarily by the strange scarlet iridesence she had last seen on her gem, during the contract. Her arms and legs were then wrapped messily in tight red ribbons—from just above her elbows and knees, down to her fingers and toes—before simple, brown leathery pumps and fingerless, open-backed gloves materialised out of the glow. The ribbons coiled into cute bows on the backs of her hands and feet. A loose, pleated brown skirt, stopping some distance above the knee, hemmed and belted with white, and a silver heart buckle. A long, sleeveless red top—or perhaps a very short dress—all straight lines and flat panels, white hem, the lower half stitched with white embroidery, another ribbon bow centred below her collar bone. One final pretty red ribbon appearing in her hair, on the left. Lastly, her faceted red heart-shaped gem set itself in the hollow of her throat.

She stared down at herself, momentarily speechless. It was nice to have a fresh change of clothes all of a sudden, but...

"Ew ew ewwww!" she suddenly exclaimed, "it's so girly!"

_You _are _a girl._

She pinned Inky with an incredulous stare.

_I don't understand. A girl's costume is generated by her own aesthetics. There has never been a case where someone has been disgusted by their transformation before._

A slow blush coloured her cheeks, "well, well, there's no way I can show myself like this in front of Lily-" a gasp, face now paling rapidly, "Lily! Is she safe? Where is she!?"

Jumping to stand before her, _Calm down. She's at home, asleep. Safe. Wishes are powerful things._

Ash slowly loosened her muscles, sighing in relief. "That's... good."

_Yes. You can be happy. But, there is a pressing matter to attend to. Your soul gem is tainted from the effort of healing your injury. You must cleanse it. There is only one method for this, and it carries great risk. _Inky took a few steps away from her, before sitting once more and looking back over its shoulder, _However, the risk of leaving your gem to fester is even greater. Think of it like a new hunger—it must be satiated, or you will starve._

"Would I die? If I never, uhm, satiated the hunger?"

Inky watched her face for a moment. She did not look especially worried, only intent. Focussed.

_Yes. And the longer you leave it, the weaker and more discouraged you will feel. It is best to keep your gem as clean as possible at all times—in that respect, it differs from your stomach's hunger. Show me your weapon._

She blinked, then glanced down at her hands. With barely a thought, the girl summoned a pair of smoothly ridged brass knuckles, each fitted perfectly to her fingers. Tens of tiny, chaotically engraved hearts scarred their shiny yellow surface. She grinned.

_Hmm. An in-fighter._ Inky trotted briskly away, hopping a gap to another roof, _Come with me. We're going hunting._

Looking up in surprise, she chased after it.

* * *

"What are we looking for?" Ash asked as she jogged steadily after the quick white creature. They were no longer hopping from roof to roof, instead they had taken to dark alleyways and crooked side-streets, heading for the deeper slums.

_Demons. You will know when they are near... but we must be careful, as you are alone and new to this. We will attempt to keep clear of any large groups—they would kill you without much trouble._

"Demons?! There isn't anything like that on Eden..."

_Non-contractees cannot detect or percieve them by any method._

"Oh. That's... weird, isn't it?" she frowned.

_Such is the nature of magic._

"Magic!" Her eyes widened. _Well, what else could it be? _she thought, _I even had a wish granted!_

_Yes, magic. In fact, contractees are also known by the name, "Magical Girls". You are now a mage, capable of your own feats of magic._

"Huh." They ran in silence for a short while, passing a hovering police droid that failed to notice them entirely, and before long, Ash felt a strange nagging unpleasantness, a premonition of danger. It steadily grew more urgent. "Uhm..."

_You feel it? Good. That is the presence of demons. We don't need to worry too much yet—we can observe them from a distance. This group is, however, not one we want to engage. So hide yourself._

Inky leapt onto a rusting, decommissioned railcar, and then onto the roof of the yawning, empty building it was leaning against. _Come on. We can watch them from up here._

She hopped straight on top of the building, exhilarating in her new mobility—

_I said hide yourself!_

"Oh, woops, sorry," an embarrassed smile.

—and crouched down beside Inky. The white alien walked up the sloping roof, then pointed with its tail towards the peak. She followed, crawling a little awkwardly, still unused to wearing a skirt. Lips set in a serious line, she peered over the rim. In the distance, far enough that—pre-contract—she would not have stood a chance of seeing even in full daylight, several tall, humanoid shapes in flowing robes floated aimlessly. There was something odd about their backs.

_I imagine you can't see them too well from here. Regrettably, this is as close as we can safely get. It is a pity we don't have access to a bioenhancement centre..._

"Huh?" Ash frowned at Inky's odd comment, but let it pass, "what are they doing? There aren't very many..."

_The ones you see are the few who have already finished their feeding for tonight. The rest of them, I estimate over thirty, are still in the buildings below._

"Feeding...? That sounds creepy," she looked over at Inky, who had not even once glanced in the direction of the demons, spending the entire time studying Ash.

_Yes._ Inky finally turned its head to look over at the haunting figures._ They are unpleasant beings. They feed on human lives, sometimes spending many nights on the same prey, who steadily becomes more drained, tired and faded. They kill the ones they're finished with._

Ash paled, "that's, that's horrible! I can't just-"

_You can and you must._ The creature interrupted, turning its head to stare once again at Ash,_ even if you were an older mage—with a decade of combat experience under your belt—you would have trouble with more than fifteen demons at once. Thirty is simply impossible, for you now. You would die, and achieve nothing. When facing an enemy as vast as this—an entire city's worth of demons—you must choose your battles carefully, and whittle away at your opponent while you become stronger. Do not allow your immediate compassion to get in the way of your reason._

They stared at one another, Ash's eyes very wide. After a moment, Ash lowered her gaze submissively. "Ok... Lily always says I need to think before I do things. This is one of those times, right?"

_It is. Lily sounds like a clever girl. I am relieved that you are wise enough to know when to accept advice. You have no idea how much trouble it is keeping an impulsive fool from getting herself killed._

Inky turned and trotted back down the roof, then hopped down to the street below, _Come, I can sense a smaller group from here._

"I don't feel anything..." she stepped off the building, landing in a boyish crouch—suddenly straightening, patting at her skirt with a slight blush—then took off after Inky, who had already moved on down a shadowy street. She had no trouble following the white shape with her new eyes.

_You'll get better with time and experience._

* * *

After a short while, they stopped running by a rusting corrugated warehouse, now well into one of the poorest areas of the inner city—far from any noble mansions. This place was sparsely inhabitated, formed primarily of junkyards and abandonned storehouses. There was little surveillance here, but the occasional police sweep kept most squatters away. A nearby lonely streetlight split the world between yellow and black. The pressure of imminent disaster was now bearing heavily down on Ash, as she nervously glanced at the many dark paths leading away from the lit circle. Inky sat just outside the immediate ring of light, in the darkness that shared the creature's name, watching her.

_Prepare yourself._

Ash swallowed, mouth gone dry, the back of her neck prickling. Her eyes flicked from dark alleyway to dark corner to cloudy night sky, hands clenching and unclenching around the brass knuckle grips. She shuffled her feet, scraping pebbles loosely scattered on the dry dirt floor, the noise scratching jarringly in the oppressive quiet. She swallowed again, and—a cold shiver down her spine—fast as a blink, facing the warehouse wall—the blank wall, door shut, but she knew, she somehow knew that behind it—a looming pale figure, fading silently through the wall like it wasn't there—humanoid, at least eleven feet tall, with chalk-white skin and swathed in loose white cloth. The face shadowed dark, as though lit from the back—but there was no light coming from the strange, glassy, segmented halo that floated behind its head, nor the oddly metallic feathers that covered its sweeping wingspan.

_An angel,_ she thought, frozen in terrified awe. It seemed to focus its attention on her, and her sense of danger grew unbearable. She threw herself to the side, feet shifting to keep balance with a poise she had never felt before—and stared as a sizzling white line passed through the spot she had been standing. In the corner of her eye, she saw another tall form floating towards the light from an alleyway opposite the warehouse. The first demon turned to face her again, moving as though underwater.

Threat, intensifying.

She felt it coming, knowing what to expect this time. Gritting her teeth in a hard grin, she set her feet and swung. Yellow brass smashed the white beam, scattering trails on odd curving trajectories. Kicking the ground hard, she ducked her head and charged just as a second laser seared the air behind her, coming from the new arrival.

Feet thundering on the packed ground, three, four steps, she lunged—a moment of peace in the air—centred her magic, left hand grabbing a fistful of cloth, and _thrust_, slamming her fist into the breastbone of her prey. A satisfying crack, a pulse of shock—ruffling her ribbons—and the demon was blown backwards, though it remained upright. She landed lightly, immediately breaking to the right, grazing yet another bright beam from the second demon. Curving her path, she rounded on the stunned angelic figure, gathering herself for another jump.

With a leap—determined to end this pale ghost—she landed gracefully on its shoulder, and swung her right again, smashing through the irregular segments of its halo, rattling its skull. Even from this distance, she could make out no details on its face. She leapt high off the shoulder, landing on the flat warehouse roof, and turned back, ducking, then lying flat, just in case. From the other side of the small plot of land, where the second demon had come, there were two more advancing towards the fight.

The first was now writhing, the cloth twisting erratically, the whole thing decaying—shattering—into glitchy pieces. The pieces seemed to collapse into themselves, some of them condensing into small black cubes that landed, rolling on the floor like dice. _Is that halo thing their weak spot?_ she sent this curious thought to Inky, who was nowhere to be seen. _Probably watching me again,_ the girl thought, to herself this time, _maybe I can impress him!_

_Not particularly,_ the alien replied,_ but a pair of strikes like that, especially to the head, is usually too much for them._

She nodded to herself, and turned her attention back to the three other demons. They were clumped together somewhat, and had stopped moving quite some distance from the circle of light cast by the lamppost, wings folded. Their heads were pointing in her direction.

She knew what to do.

Flicking herself over the edge of the roof, she landed with barely a knee bent and sprinted towards the group of demons at an angle. Sensing the lasers as they fired, she switched directions accordingly, occasionally ducking or, once, blocking painfully with a magically guarded fist. Her feet slid in broken arcs, alternately halting or shifting direction as she twisted and dodged. Her skirt swished this way and that, and her ribbons were pulled hither and thither by the rushing air.

She closed the last few metres going in low, then pounced up into the air, now face to face with one of the three. The other two hesitated, unwilling to risk hitting the first. She slapped her left palm to its large forehead, gripping tightly. Its skin felt strangely smokey, insubstantial under her fingers, even while the head as a whole felt very solid indeed. Concentrating briefly, she materialised a string, tied around her middle finger and connected to the wraith's forehead. It was taut, but its length changed freely. She pushed off its head, landed, and promptly resumed her sprinting evasion, curling her trajectory around the group, preparing to strike the closest one. The demon she had planted a string on whirled with typical slow grace, turning to face her, and turning on, until it was pointed towards the last of the group.

Its searing light lanced out, piercing the head of the third demon—just as Ash batted aside one final laser with her left brass, lunged forward and pounded once, twice, thrice on the chest of her target, crunching metal against bony flesh, then grasped the white robe and heaved herself up, offering one final punch to the nose, charged with magic, thudding the air and snapping its neck.

Dropping to the ground, Ash breathed slowly in, and let out a sigh. She rubbed her sore right hand, burned slightly by her clumsy block earlier. The ribbons on the back were frayed and charred, the bow missing. She felt a little sad about that.

Inky was approaching, the intense fight now over, trotting without a care. She looked to the last remaining demon. It was looking at back her, relaxed. Concentrating carefully now, straining, she built up her power and sent a killing charge down the string. The pale angel jerked tight, shivering slightly, feathers rustling like foil, then collapsed in the demon's characteristic fashion, whirling into a pair of black shards. The string vanished.

_Very well done, Ash._

She beamed.

_You show promise. We can talk about that power of yours later—I expected something similar, but am still curious about the particulars._ Inky hopped up onto her shoulder, making her flinch slightly before relaxing,_ For now, you need to collect the cubes those demons left behind. Those are what this whole effort was for._

"What are they?" she asked curiously, wandering over to the seven that the trio of demons had left behind. She picked one up, examining it carefully. It was sheer black, smooth—a perfect cube—but otherwise unremarkable. It could have been made of polished obsidian.

_Grief cubes, _Inky answered, _they are currently empty._

"That's a creepy name," she picked up another two, "what do you mean by empty?"

Inky rested on her shoulder as she gathered the remaining four cubes, waving its tail softly. Ash straightened, then turned to look for the cubes the very first demon had left behind—her sharp eyes had no trouble picking them out, despite their small size, smaller than a fingertip. She strolled over to pick them up.

The alien finally replied, _You'll see._ Ash reached the last two cubes, and crouched to collect them.

* * *

"Ok, so what do I do?" she asked.

_Let's get on top of a roof, this will take a little while—and we don't want anyone interrupting._

"Alright. What would have happened if someone came while I was fighting?"

_Not possible. The demons create a barrier of sorts, called the miasma, that separates the space they're in from the real world. Mages can enter it without any trouble, though._

"I didn't notice anything like that," she mentioned, slightly confused. Reaching the warehouse again, she clambered up, oddly disinclined to make it in one jump. _Am I tired?_ she wondered.

_Well, a mere four demons won't make a very impressive miasma, but it should still be enough to keep normal humans out. Now then. Sit down and put your gem on the roof. _She did so. _Now put some of the grief cubes down near it, and watch. I suggest six._

She scattered six of the cubes over the gem, keeping three, watching as they rolled to a stop at various distances from her heart-shaped jewel. Inky jumped off her shoulder to lay down a short distance away. Then, from her gem, trails of darkness seemed to crawl across the ground towards the cubes. Her eyes widened. The stains marring her soul gem's crystalline surface were slowly drawn to the edges, and as she stared, they appeared to be sucked off entirely, pulsing down the trails. Besides the stains, the visible red surface was also growing brighter, clearer. The young girl felt refreshed, healthy, and realised just how fatigued she had been mere moments ago. Catching movement in the corner of her eye, she glanced at her right hand—and watched in amazement as the ribbon repaired itself and retied itself into a bow.

Happily, "it fixed itself!" she showed Inky, smiling brightly, "the ribbon, I mean." Her hand was no longer aching, too.

_Indeed. Your mage outfit is a magical construct, formed directly from your magic. It cannot suffer permanent damage, to my knowledge. Nor does it need cleaning._

"Ohh, that's handy," she turned to look again at her gem, and noticed—"the grief cubes... they look different. Darker, but they were already black..."

_That's right, they are fuller now. They have absorbed the grief that was tainting your gem. Magic is not free—its price is your happiness._

"What!" she gasped, "that's scary... is it really safe?"

_You should have realised by now that nothing about magic is safe. But don't worry, it's nothing permanent. It doesn't alter your fate, like a wish—it only affects your emotions directly. As long as you keep a level head, it shouldn't bother you much._ Inky stood up, and padded over to the now frighteningly dark grief cubes—like holes in the night. _Now for the final part of our contract. This is what _I_ get in the agreement. _The red eyes turned to meet Ash's. _Throw those full cubes to me._

She blinked in surprise, but did as she was asked, scooping up the cubes and tossing them to Inky. Amazement shone in her face as the alien's mouth—the red circle on its back—lifted open, revealing a disconcertingly black interior, and caught the cubes.

_Your grief will be used to help save the universe. It's a good deal for us both, don't you think?_

"Save the universe from what?" she wondered, now well and truly impressed.

_Its otherwise inevitable end. The amount of usable energy in the universe—the fuel of all life, change, and everything interesting—is steadily decreasing. With grief cubes and magic, we can hold back the loss of available energy—even reverse it._

Ash made a thoughtful noise in reply, then looked at the sky. She could see the faint light of dawn lifting the edge of the night, and smiled at the sight.

"Are we finished for now? Lily will wake up soon, and I want to go and see her."

_We have taken care of everything urgent, yes. May I accompany you?_

Ash looked at the furry white creature in surprise. "Of course! I already thought you were coming."

* * *

**Note: Update speed is going to be irregular while I find my pace... but I anticipate settling somewhere between weekly and fortnightly. We'll see.**


	3. Lily

Lily

They had been herded naked to stand in a small, dim, grey room. There were no chairs, no seating at all. No tables, no furniture. It was a room for standing in, a waiting room. There were nine girls—most of them old enough to be called adults, but they were still very much girls, vulnerable as they all felt. The room, wide enough to give each their personal space, cool enough for goosebumps to pebble their upper arms, held them quivering, spaced loosely in one corner. Each drawing comfort from the others' presence, but letting no one too close—too fragile to carry another's reliance.

Hard black collars, no means of detachment visible, wrapped skin-tight around their necks.

None of them spoke. What was there to talk about?

None of them cried—it hadn't really hit them, not yet.

They stood quietly, soft breathing a soothing susurration on the air. Naked as they were, vulnerable as they were, the shadows of the room and the hush of their breaths wrapped them in calm. They wore them like cloaks.

Then the door clicked open, and a darkly clothed attendant entered the room, ushering them quietly out of their momentary refuge. Feet treading stickily on the tile floor, they walked, still silent, through a short hallway. The attendant left them just inside another door, and then their legs took control, moving them out onto a dark stage, behind a curtain. They could hear a crowd shifting and murmuring beyond the velvet cloth, sending a shiver of unease through the group. But the shadows were still there, and the hush of their breaths.

A man walked among them, busily ordering them into a line—by what criteria he chose their positions was not clear, but there was definite purpose to his manipulations. Eventually they were arranged to his satisfaction, in a horizontal row some distance from the curved edge of the stage. The man stepped forward of them, seeming to almost sparkle in his dapper clothing. He drew a deep breath, and the heavy red curtain drew back.

Their cloaks were dispelled like the illusions they were.

The nine girls—hit by the sudden glare of bright daylight, hammered by appreciative cheers, battered by the weight of a hundred hungry stares—cowered.

Bowed by the pressure of the crowd, they reacted in different ways.

Some of them broke down, broke into tears. They would have collapsed, but their bodies, strictly controlled up on the stage, would not let them.

Others simply tuned it all out, turning their attention inward, disconnecting from a world that had betrayed them.

Lily was of the latter group, focusing on her core of determination—a core she had drawn on so many times before—tightening her muscles, and just letting it all crash around her. The storm of light and sound and dark, bleeding emotion shattering against her tense body like waves on a rocky spire.

* * *

Her eyes unfocused, she saw nothing. She did not notice as her legs walked her foward a few steps, presenting her to the crowd. She had it all under control. Her core was calm, untouched, unshaken. She did not register the crowd's sudden shift in atmosphere, from excitement to curious surprise. She did not see the red glow shining out of the gutter in front of the stage. She did not hear the gunshots.

She had it all under control, until—"Ashley Rake!"—the cry blasted the tension out of her, air wooshing into her lungs. She cast her eyes around in panic, not understanding. The guards rushing past, carrying guns, banging doors. The crowd hissing and rustling nervously.

_What?_

Taken utterly off guard, Lily could not piece together what had just happened. A vague impression of several sharply loud noises lingered in her memory. She remembered the guns the guards were carrying, and felt a bubbling fear in the base of her stomach. A slow, creeping horror that she desperately tried to suppress, telling herself that she was not sure, that she did not really know.

The crowd settled slowly, and she felt herself become the centre of attention again. Fearfully, she reached once more for her core—but she could not find it. Worry for Ash pricked at her mind, she was unable to concentrate. Her head felt stretched, stressed, pulled almost to snapping point.

But... the crowd seemed subdued. They had lost their excitement somewhere in the confusing events just past, and no one said a word as she was sold without fuss to a tall, handsome noble, who led her up one of the long staircases and out of the main hall almost immediately.

Dazed by the sudden relief from all those eyes, Lily followed mindlessly. The noble looked young. A little younger than most adults, perhaps. As they exited one of the four pairs of large double doors, he removed his long brown jacket, and draped it across her shoulders. Lily looked up in surprised indignation, snapping out of her trance, a roiling mixture of anger and fear rising up to grasp at her throat. Fear for Ash, but also for herself. Anger at this absurd man, who apparently thought that his jacket could comfort her. Or perhaps he was simply selfish, and did not want others looking at his property. She grit her teeth, grinding them against each other. Something in her began to boil over. She opened her mouth, preparing to vent her fury, rage overcoming terror, but—the man turned away, walking down the richly carpeted corridor.

And Lily's mouth shut with a snap, her arms wrapped the jacket tightly about herself, her legs began to march her after him. Shocked blank momentarily, Lily remembered who exactly she had been about to shout down. The strange sensation of an artificially suppressed shiver traveled down her spine.

The noble, still ahead of her, turned a corner—and stopped suddenly. Lily's body stopped too, as yet unable to see round the bend. Her body arranged itself, standing straight, arms tight, back neatly to the corridor wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the noble walk forward out of sight. She heard a low conversation, too low to make anything out. Her train of thought wandered, quickly tangling itself on the subject of the recent confusion of events. Had Ash actually been _inside_ the auction house? How on earth had she gotten there in the middle of an auction? How could the nobles have made such an oversight in security? Had she really heard gunshots? And why, why oh why did Ash have to be so stubborn? So reckless? _Following me even to here... what was she thinking!_

Her eyes blinked. Her ears caught a thread of sound, focussing—

"–yes Mother, I'll give her to you if I get bored with her," the man said, sounding exasperated, "we've been through this before..."

Footsteps approached the corner, accompanying voices growing louder.

"Wonderful," the woman ignored his second comment, "you know how I love children like her. Spirited." A brief pause, "still, it is a relief to see you finally taking an interest. Do take your time, dear. In fact—if you hand her over unused like the others, I shall be cross!" Her voice was rich, colourful, cultured. Playful. Lily cringed internally at the words they spoke. Her mind left the conundrum of Ash's actions, now fraying at the edges considering her immediate future. She clamped down desperately on the panic, attempting to distract herself. She tried following with extreme care the delicately twirling pattern of the stained wooden wall opposite her. It wasn't working very well.

The man chuckled, a little hoarsely, "Yes yes, now, please, excuse me, but I really need to go."

Lily's body began moving once again, taking her round the corner, and almost walking her straight into a tall, stunningly beautiful lady. Correcting itself, her body stepped to the side with barely a hesitation. It then stood still, at attention. Lily felt the woman's poison-green eyes upon her, gaze crawling down her bare throat, over the jacket, and further down. Snapping back up to nail twin jade thorns of hunger into Lily's own young green eyes. She had painted red lips and slick black hair. Plaited, it was coiled on the back of her head, some loose strands tickling her delicate jawline, curling against her graceful neck.

She smirked, eyes still burning into Lily's, "of course, dear, I understand your impatience. Isn't she just delightful? Try not to hurry too much, though. Why, I remember the first boy to pique my interest... I was inexperienced then, and ruined my own fun. You won't make the same mistake, will you?"

Something about her gaze... was wrong. Subtly, yet blatantly wrong, like slightly broken symmetry. It sent grim tendrils of distress writhing in Lily's stomach, contemptuously shredding her attempts to keep calm. Her body was still under the iron control of her implants, though, and so she showed no outward signs of her internal disarray. Nor could she look away.

"No, mother..." he rolled his eyes, "you've told me enough times. Good-bye."

He gestured and Lily's legs began moving her down the corridor. Relief shook her as she finally passed by the lady—though she fancied she could still feel the pressure of her stare, all the way up until she at last turned another corner.

The man she was following heaved a long, tired sigh.

* * *

They finally exited the building, sliding crystal doors closing automatically behind them, and the man led her to one of the many cars crowding the auction house plaza. Watching the door open, he waited for her to climb in—still involuntarily, now emotionally exhausted—before following, taking a seat opposite her. The door shut by itself, and the car started moving, soundless, driverless. With nothing else to look at, Lily looked at her new owner. He had straight, chin length blond hair, and green eyes, just like his mother's. Not so different from Lily's. The disturbing wrongness wasn't in his stare, however—and he _was_ staring at her. She hurriedly lowered her gaze, switching her look to her bare thighs. Trembling. Her anger had abandonned her, left in tatters by that disturbing woman. Fear now left her meek, shivering. She almost wished for the easy self-discipline of mind-control again. Her arms were wrapped around herself under the jacket, gripping at its inner lining, tightly holding to her only shield.

The man leant back in his seat, sighing once more.

However, as she noticed the path they were taking through the city—through the _slums_—she could not help her curiosity. Sinking roots deep into her foundation of courage, she drew a breath, and tremulously asked, "excuse me, sir, but where are we going?"

He stared at her again, this time with mild surprise in his eyes, but did not answer right away. He was distracted by her neck, and reached out—Lily flinched hard, then her muscles locked as she was gripped by control. In this situation, it did not offer relief. Panic flattened her reason and tunneled her vision as her body leaned in to the man's touch. But he only touched her collar. He held it with finger and thumb and pulled it off as though it were never fastened. It slipped off her neck like a liquid, morphing into the black sphere she remembered they had touched her neck with, back when they collected her from home. "Forgot about this," he mumbled, tossing it aside. It landed with a thump on the soft seat. He leaned back again.

Then the noble met her eyes once more, and answered, "I'm taking you back home. I've already freed you by the way, in the logs I mean, I mean, the official books—where they list who owns who-" he cut off, "I'm babbling..." he lowered his face into his hands, "gods this is terrifying," he confessed, voice muffled by his palms.

Lily gaped at him, hardly believing, and utterly lost at his suddenly crumbling composure. "Umm," she cast about for a distraction, not one to let someone wallow in despair. Despite immediate incredulity, his words had relaxed her somewhat, and she felt a little of herself returning. She finally hit upon the obvious topic: "what happened back at the auction house?" her voice was no longer trembling, "I mean, what were the guards rushing about for?"

The man paused in his self pity, looking up, "Oh... there was a girl, she, uh, appeared out of nowhere in the gutter, after, after that red glow," he paused to take a breath, now seeming thoughtful. Staring past Lily, his voice steadying, "or rather, after the guards shot at the red glow. The strangest thing was, the girl escaped to the exit even after Lord Bannister commanded her to stay still."

Lily felt the last hand that had been gripping her heart loosen slightly. The man refocused his eyes on her, "she wasn't a noble's daughter or anything, you see. It was rather mysterious," he continued.

"Did she get away? Do you know?" Lily's eyes were wide with hope.

"She did," a breath of relief, "but there's no doubt the other nobles will be putting everything they have into the search for that girl. Ignoring a command like that is a big deal. They won't let it rest."

Worried anew, Lily looked down at her pale legs. Her clothes, she realised, were still at the auction house. _What a pain. _More money needlessly lost.

The car stopped. She looked up, out of the window, to see her home. People in the street were staring at the car.

"This is it, yes? You can keep the jacket. It's new, and I didn't like it anyway." He was looking out of the other window.

Lily gave him a blank look, "thank you so much..." she felt she should probably be sobbing her thanks on her knees, but... the relief just wasn't that strong. Her core was finally stable again, and her poise had returned. And the way the noble was acting made it all seem to be business as usual. His eye twitched. Lily remembered the despair he had revealed earlier.

He didn't look at her, but a stiff smile turned the corner of his mouth. The car door opened. Shooting him one last glance, she stepped out, careful to keep the hem of the jacket as low as possible. The door closed again shortly after. The car drove off. She watched it leave.

Catching herself, she quickly turned, trotting towards her house. Bare feet landed softly but painfully on the stony dirt. She did her best to ignore the stares of those in the street, both curious and lecherous, as she climbed the three steps to her door. Lily was home at last.

* * *

...

* * *

Lily groaned in frustration. Rolling over to her left side, she kicked her blanket into the air yet again, letting a waft of slightly cooler air underneath. She had had an awful night's sleep, and it didn't seem like she was going to get any more. She gazed out of the window on the opposite wall to her bed. Still dark. Still stiflingly hot. She hated summer—her family couldn't afford the housing upgrades necessary for automatic temperature control. Her eyes unerringly found themselves staring, once more, at the empty mattress on the floor beside her bed. Where Ash usually slept. She sighed. _That girl... _she thought, exasperatedly, _always getting into trouble!_ Another rant was picking up speed, _what did she even think she was doing!? Of course, she probably wasn't thinking at all! She never does! _She turned onto her back, glaring holes into the ceiling._ What is _wrong _with that girl!_

_...Why didn't she come home? That man said she had gotten out of the auction house..._ she sighed again. _Ash..._ she had repeated the same thoughts a hundred times already, she felt. She couldn't help it—with no answers to her questions they just rattled around in her head, over and over. Her thoughts wandered. Her parents had been in such a state, she remembered. Barely able to believe their eyes, asking question after question. Many questions she couldn't answer. Questions like _how did Ash get there?_—she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to avoid going down that route, yet again.

Sitting up, she brushed her hair, sweaty from the night's suffocating heat, out of her eyes, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Determined to stop her purposeless worrying, she placed her bare feet on the rough wooden floor, got out, grabbed a towel and headed for the shower.

Later, wearing a simple shirt and long skirt, she stood before the bathroom mirror—hair dried, arranged simply and straight, as she preferred—putting the finishing touches to her appearance. No make-up—her mother didn't allow it, and it could get expensive anyway. _Didn't stop them from scouting me, though_, she mused. Well, it was for the best. A glance at the mirror, one last fussy tug at her collar, and she turned to head downstairs. She was not sure why she put such care in her presentation, all things considered. It was something Ash had asked her many times, wearing that particular confused expression of hers—a little frown; head slightly tilted; lips slightly parted, as though about to ask another question.

She entered the dining room, silent and dark this early in the morning, and walked over to the kitchen counters to start preparing breakfast. Usually her parents would be doing this, as they had to wake before her for their morning work. The clatter of pans, the slow-frying eggs—a gentle hiss, the hum of the toaster and the grill. All served to quell the quiet, and maybe fill that hollow a little. The hollow Ash usually filled. Her parents joined her at last, mildly subdued, and gently nudged Lily away from the work. Outside, the clean light of dawn was beginning to show—pollution, at least, was not a problem in Theatre. Lily left to wake her brother and, joined by her mother, the twin sisters, barely toddlers. Her brother would be tasked with taking care of the twins while the three eldest of the family would leave to earn some much needed money.

Returning to the kitchen area, Lily reflected on this muffled atmosphere—it was not that Ash was a loud girl, though she wasn't quiet either. It was more that noise seemed to follow her, as though her presence inspired bustle in all those around her. Not knowing when—or even if—she was coming back was... draining.

Sitting down to eat at last, Lily spared a moment to tickle Anna, one of the twins, eliciting a sudden high giggle—piercingly out of place, but it was a much needed spark in a dry room. The sun shone low through the window now, highlighting colours at last.

Lily had just picked up some toast and started buttering, when they all heard the key in the front door—still locked for the past night. Lily dropped her butter knife in shock, rising from her seat—but Peter was way ahead of her, already moving to stand in wait. The door was pushed open, and there stood Ash. Standing with an extremely sheepish look on her grime-smeared face, a very common occurrence, and her clothes _crusted_ with filth. _In fact,_ Lily thought, a frown creasing her brow, _not just dirt... is that dried blood? And that tear in the shoulder of her shirt..._

"Ash," her father, frightened, "you're unhurt?"

Ash nodded, "I'm fine," in a small voice.

A pause, "right then..." he continued, tone turning menacing. Her mother gasped, and quickly stepped over, preparing to intervene. Suddenly, an angry yell. "_what_ did you think you were doing!"

Ash had already lowered her head in apology—it had long since become a habit.

Lily was now also pushing herself away from the table, but—

"Wait!" her mother caught Peter's arm. "You know the rules," her father's frustrated sigh, "she gets clean clothes and a shower _first._"

Ash raised her head to flash Lily a toothy grin. Lily raised her eyebrows.

* * *

Lily sat on a tiny stool, facing the tiled bathroom wall, listening to the wet rush of the shower. She had come to the bathroom with Ash to grab a moment to talk—before her father's undoubtedly extensive scolding—but... she hadn't said anything yet. Ash was humming happily, and even after spending half the night worrying, her obvious cheerfulness took the wind out of Lily's sails.

"So? Are you going to tell me what happened? What were you doing at... that place?"

A break in the humming, lasting a short moment. "Well... if I tell you here, you won't believe me. Let's go to the old fountain—wait, no, the junkhouse."

"You've got something to show me? I'll go get you some breakfast then. You're hungry, aren't you?" Lily smiled at the tiles.

"Am I! I haven't had anything since breakfast yesterday!"

Suddenly, a scowl. _No, no, later, Lily..._ she decided to let Ash go—father hadn't had his turn yet, after all. Besides, ruining such a good mood... it would be like kicking a puppy. Standing up, she waved over her shoulder and left Ash to clean up, heading downstairs again.

* * *

Perhaps half an hour later, they were sitting in a corner of what they called the junkhouse—an abandonned warehouse full of broken machinery, actually an oddity in the area the Channels lived, not far enough from the Felwater house to have become a true slum. They were using old, rusted engines as seats. Ash had fought over possession rights with local kids many times. It was a popular place.

They had escaped here mid-scold—once Peter had finished his tirade about carelessness and how they had worried, he had finally turned his attention to the strangeness of Ash's presence in the auction house. How had she even known where to go? That was when Ash had seized Lily and fled, leaving the bewildered parents with nothing to do but head to their usual morning shifts.

Lily watched Ash open her cloth-wrapped box, reach inside and pull out one of the marmalade-slathered slices of toast. After a moment of Ash's enthusiastic chewing, Lily mentioned, "I suppose you're not going to the kitchens today then?"

"Nah," in between munches, "the nobles," munch, "got my name," munch, "so..."

Lily rolled her eyes, "finish your mouthful before you reply..."

Swallow, "but you asked me just after I took a bite!"

The blonde girl sighed, "I suppose I did. Sorry. So you're not worried? Even though the nobles are looking for you."

"Nope! They can't find me, don't worry! But what about you, ahhh, what happened? Are you going to work today?"

"Yes, I'll work." Lily's employer was actually quite lenient. Kind. He'd let her off for being a little late on just one day. It wasn't a common trait in the poorer areas of Theatre, with everyone beaten down in oppression. Her job of delivering newspapers, to those few who cared about the daily details of what the nobles were doing—necessary in this city because of the heavy restrictions on telecommunication—was really quite relaxed compared to most, though Ash's employment was not representative of the usual day either. She only put herself through the absurd punishment of her kitchen work for the sake of possibly seeing her mother. "What do you mean they can't find you? How is that possible? Wait. Nevermind that," Lily took a pen and a piece of paper from a side pocket in her shirt, and scribbled down the question. Seeing this, Ash groaned.

"Um, why don't you tell me what happened to you?" A weak attempt at distraction.

Sternly, "Ash." Lily had pinned Ash with her glare, and were she standing she would have fists planted firmly on her hips. "I can't believe what you did yesterday Ash!"

Ash sighed internally. She would have complained, it was justified after all, she felt, but she knew it was better to let these things run their course without interruption.

"Waltzing into a live auction like that, what did you hope to do!? Did you have a plan? Did you stop and think?"

Ash winced at that.

"It doesn't matter that you got away—that was sheer luck and well you know it! Imagine if they had caught you...!" She wasn't shouting, but her voice dominated the room. At last able to vent her night's endlessly circling frustrations, Lily actually felt herself relax as she railed at Ash's irresponsible choices.

Ash, on the other hand, was itching to defend herself. But some of Lily's comments were striking home. It was annoying. She knew she had done the right thing, in the end. But it was lucky, too... She didn't know how to explain her insight into the situation, so she decided to weather the storm, leaving it for until she told her whole story.

"And what was that about not eating since yesterday morning!" Lily's anger evaporated with these last words.

For Ash, though, this was too much. "That's not fair! I was sleeping for most of yesterday!"

Lily's blink, "what? You were?"

They stared at each other.

After a moment, Lily looked down at the piece of paper in her hand, then asked her question again. "Why can't the nobles find you?"

Shaking her head, fine hair flaring out airily, "I'll tell the story from the start. But I want to hear what happened to you first!"

"Hmph. Fine." She took a breath, wondering how to begin. "Hmm... well... after that man shouted your name in the auction house..." Lily frowned, falling silent for a moment. "One of the nobles won my auction."

"Really? Did you run away?" Ash's eyes were wide.

"Don't be silly. You know that's not possible. He set me free. I don't really know why..." her eyes unfocused, seeing the past. "He was terrified."

Head cocked to one side, "what? What was he scared of? He's a noble, right?"

"Yes," Lily met Ash's inquiring gaze. "But his mother... Uhm, well, after buying me he took me straight out of the auction hall, and we walked into his mother in the corridor. Oh, he had covered me with his jacket too. It's still at home."

"His jacket? He let you have it?" a tiny frown darkened her brow. "It might be booby trapped or something!"

Lily giggled, "be reasonable Ash—if a noble wanted to trap someone, I don't think they'd need a jacket. Do you?"

"Well, I suppose you're right..."

"Anyway, we met his mother. And, she's... frightening. So, I think I understand why he was scared, too."

"What do you mean, she's frightening?" Ash tilted her head again, blinking, "and what are their names?"

"Umm... I think I heard his name when they called out who had won... but... I don't really remember it. Mr Coral, or something. I didn't hear any other names. Oh, the man who shouted your name was called Lord Barista or something like that."

Ash laughed, "nobles have weird names! But I bet you're just remembering them wrong," she grinned.

"Oh hush." Lily brushed her hair behind her ear. "So, after that, the man took me to his car and drove me home. I asked him about what had happened to you on the way—"

"Wait!" Ash interrupted, "you didn't say why his mum was scary."

"Oh, sorry, well, she was just creepy. The way she looked at me... and what she said. I'd be happy if I never saw her again."

"Hm. What did she look like?"

"She was tall, and really pretty. Beautiful, actually."

"Hmmm." Ash eyed Lily's expression.

"So anyway. He told me what had happened with you. He said you had gotten away, but that they were all looking for you. The nobles." Lily looked down at her long fingers, twined with each other in her lap, "and when he told me that he had freed me, he, uhm, he got really scared. I think he was scared of his mother. I think... it was his first time defying her, or something"

"His first time defying her, huh... how old did he look?"

"Uhmm. An adult. Maybe not completely grown up yet. So, what's your story then?"

"Geez, what a wimp!" Lily frowned at that. She felt Ash would think differently if she had been there to see the man's mother. "Ok, well, I'll start with the voice I heard in my head, shall I?"

Lily raised an eyebrow, and settled down to listen with increasing disbelief and not a little concern at this strange, dangerous story.

"You were _shot_? And a _wish_? Ash, I know you're not making this up, but... I need some help here." She remembered the blood and Ash's ripped shirt, but even so.

Ash paused in her meandering re-telling of yesterday's events. She glanced down at her hand, and Lily finally noticed the ring on the finger. It was quite simple, silver, with a round red stone on top, and some strange patterns on the underside. There was also—

"Oh! That's cute. How did you do that?"

"Huh? The ring? It's, uh—"

"No, no, your fingernail!"

Ash blinked, then looked back down at her hand. There was a red heart on her left middle finger's nail, the same finger that bore the ring.

"I didn't see that before."

"What? You mean you didn't know about it?"

"Yeah. I'll get to it, now let me tell the story!"

"Huh. You didn't seem so uptight about interruptions when it was my turn."

Ash cleared her throat, abashed, and continued relating her tale. Lily listened intently, now beyond being surprised at every detail, deciding instead to just wait for the whole thing, and judge after Ash had shown her whatever it was she wanted to show. During one of Ash's tangents, however, this one on the subject of how amazing her new senses were—"I can even hear your heartbeat, from here!"—she found her attention wandering. Alighting on Ash's newly decorated fingernail, her messy shirt collar—fingers itching to fix it—and eventually fixing on a sticky crumb attached to Ash's cheek, near her lips. She picked it off delicately, and ate it. Ash didn't notice. She shook her head to clear it, and returned her attention to Ash's excited nattering.

Eventually, Ash drew her story to a close. More than half an hour had passed. She ended by mentioning that Inky had told her, on the way back, that it couldn't be seen by normal people, and gestured rather vaguely to the side. Lily frowned at that, as she had when the same was said of the demons, but she had already made up her mind to accept everything, and merely waited patiently.

"Uh, so," Ash coughed nervously, blushing, and stood up, "guess I'll show you the outfit then..." She had skimmed over its description during the recounting, still more than a little flustered at the idea of Lily seeing her in such girly clothing.

A brief crimson flash, and Lily's jaw dropped.

"Wha..." slowly, a happy grin grew on her face. Ash fidgeted shyly.

"Ash," she giggled, "that's so pretty!"

"Sh-shut up! It's not like I chose this costume—" she stopped, as though interrupted, then looked at her feet, blushing furiously, "shut up, Inky!"

Lily's laugh echoed in the rusty room.

* * *

Ash walked back up the steps to Lily's house, once again wearing her clean, simple shorts and shirt, sleeves rolled up. She had parted with Lily on the way back, both agreeing to talk more about magic and its consequences—especially demon hunts—later, after Lily returned from her job, and had had a chance to absorb it all. Ash marvelled at how neatly the wish had taken care of Lily's comfort.

After spending a few minutes playing with Tom and the twins, she cooked herself a big, early lunch—the toast earlier had been good, but nowhere near enough—ate the whole thing, and, feeling mentally exhausted and wrapped softly in safety, headed to bed, throwing off her clothes and flopping down under the covers without bothering with any of the usual bed-time routines.

"Good night, Inky"

_Good night._

* * *

_..._

* * *

When the short girl awoke, it was night-time again. She huffed in annoyance, wondering when she'd be able to get back to normal. Checking her internal clock, she saw that it was in fact earlier than the last time she had woken up. Well, she had gone to sleep earlier, too, so that made sense, she supposed. Noting her neatly tucked in bed-covers, she smiled softly before getting out quietly, and dressing in the same clothes as yesterday.

In the dark room, the magical girl could still see with perfect detail, though the colours were muted silvers and greys. She spared an instant to look at her best friend's sleeping face, eyes touching on her pale, tousled hair and even paler, soft cheek. She smiled again, glad that the ordeal was over, and cast around for something to write with. Leaving a note, saying simply that she had gone for a walk, Ash walked out of the room. Treading carefully, stepping over the boards that creaked.

Downstairs, she fished in her pocket for the house key, left the house and relocked the door behind her. Inky landed on her shoulder from nowhere.

"Oh!" she breathed a quiet noise of surprise, "hi Inky."

_Good evening._

"Where were you?"

_Observing humans. We still have much to learn about you._

"We? Oh, right, your people?"

_That's right. There are many of us. I am the only one on Rousen though. Or Eden, as you call it._

"Oooh. Do you have your own names for other planets? What about Earth?"

_No, no, Rousen is the human name for this planet._

"Huh? Oh... that's right, I think I remember mama saying something like that." Ash screwed up her nose, trying to remember the sparse education she had recieved about this planet's history. The first colonists had come, full of hope, intent on creating an earthly paradise to mirror the afterlife they believed in. They named it Eden. The leaders of their relatively small religion, The Light of Heaven, had suggested naming the first city Theatre. In retrospect, most citizens agreed, that was the first cruel joke the nobles had played on them. We are all puppets before the machinations of God, they said. They must have been laughing when the name was accepted.

Ash strolled down the street, no destination in mind, safe in the knowledge that Inky guarded her identity from the scans of night security. It was still early evening though, and there were plenty of other night owls around, ranging from those returning from late shifts, or heading out to graveyard shifts; some were merely walking for air on this hot night; others, in sleazier areas of the city, would be prowling the alleyways and side streets for unwary prey. The police droids were not here to stop crime. Or rather, crime had a somewhat different meaning in Theatre.

She was heading deeper into the Felwater district, towards some of the livelier areas. She had to admit she was curious—her early kitchen shift had prevented her from exploring the city after dark before, to the relief of Lily's parents, and now she was free of that job—not to mention more than strong enough to handle anything this city threw at her—she felt there was no reason why she shouldn't go take a look.

Just as she was turning onto the first of the brightly lit streets of the district centre, she heard the distinctive noise of struggle. And a panicked cry, hurriedly muffled.

* * *

Without hesitating, Ash turned away from the bright life and light before her, and sped down a darker, gloomier side-street. Inky was clinging tightly to her shoulder, buffeted by the wind of her headlong rush. She ran lightly on the hard flagstones, contemplating transforming, ultimately deciding against it. Stepping neatly around a corner at high speed, feet not even slipping a millimetre, she whirled into an alley to see two men assaulting a smaller, eastern-looking woman. One had her wrists in one grip, the other hand covering her mouth. The other had just started to tear at her belt, leaning his shin against her legs to keep them still. Ash pounded the stone beneath her, accelerating hard, Inky now barely staying on, gripping tightly with only its front paws. The men both turned their heads in shock, just as Ash slammed to a crisp stop precisely in front of the belt-man, and folded his legs with an efficient upper-cut to the chin.

The woman's mouth made an 'o' of amazed gratitude, while the other man, the mouth-man, simply turned and ran—perceptive enough to understand he had no chance in a fight, not with the way the little girl was moving. However, he didn't have a hope of escaping, either. Ash bounced off the alley wall and dropped the fleeing rapist with a smart kick to the temple, landing gracefully as always. She turned a proud smile to the woman she had just saved.

"Thank you!" she fixed her clothing, "I... wow! I've never seen anything like that before."

Ash laughed happily, drinking in the praise. She wandered over next to the lady, studying her. She was not too tall, but still considerably taller than Ash—who, Ash would have insisted, had not yet begun growing!—and dressed in a neat white shirt, black pants, black tie and black waist-coat. Collar length black hair, and sharp, dark eyes that seemed to see far more than they should. Her skin was an ever-so-slightly darker shade than Ash's, but the sharp-eyed girl couldn't discern more than that in the colourless shadows of the alley.

"Well." She was still a little breathless, "call me Juan. Can I get you a drink as thanks?" she turned her eyes to flick over Ash's small, indistinct form in the darkness.

"Umm, I'm Ash" Ash gave it some thought. _I don't have anything planned..._

She sent a thought to Inky, _what do you think?_

_Why don't you go with her? She's interesting._

Ash felt a little surprised at that, but agreed, trusting Inky's judgement. Before they left, Ash noticed Juan hesitating, looking at the prone bodies of the two men. She looked at Ash, and asked, "I imagine you knocked them out?"

"Yeah," Ash replied, curiously.

Juan sighed. "I suppose it's too much to ask of such a young girl..." then she muttered to herself, clearly not intending on Ash hearing, "I could send one of the bouncers out..."

Ash chose to let it go, and meekly followed Juan out of the twisted alley.

* * *

They had walked half the length of the bright street, one of few islands of cheer in this grim city, Ash drawing a few curious looks, before they turned into a well-lit bar—a sign above the entrance pictured a stylised violin silhouette—all white and black tile, dark wooden tables, leather seats. An upscale place. Ash was gawking unashamedly, noting the expensive looking art on the walls; the beautifully patterened vases laden with flowers from the distant wildlands and forests of Eden; the incredible array of bottles, all shapes and colours and sizes; the elegant violin music that danced from corner to corner without apparent source, a counter-point to the laughter of a full room; and the smartly cut, ultra-stylish clothes everyone seemed to be wearing. The cheerful girl was quite out of place in her shorts and scruffy shirt, not that she noticed.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," Juan was saying, to an equally well-dressed man, "I was held up. Actually, there are some dogs in Joint Alley that need taking care of."

He gave her a sharp look. "You're ok?"

"Yes, thanks to Ash, here," she smiled at Ash. The man gave them both a curious look, before heading to a door behind the bar. Juan replaced him at the bar, and promptly grabbed Ash a fruit juice from beneath it—an expensive drink, what with all the interesting fruits yet to be grown in orchards, and the food synthesizers not yet up to par. Even after fifty years, the colony was not fully settled. The nobles had other, more important things on their mind than making things easy for the commoners, or even giving them a decent chance to find their own feet.

"Here."

"Thanks," Ash wrapped her hand around the tall, cold glass, and took a sip. Made a funny face, but after some deliberation, took another sip. "It's nice," giving Juan a happy grin. She was sitting on one of the tall leather-topped stools at the bar, having hopped up with fantastic ease.

"It's my pleasure, really." Juan was gazing at Ash with a studied attention to detail, patiently cataloguing everything from the odd ring to her subject's slight, wiry arms and roughened hands—all while serving the occasional customer without error. Ash didn't seem to notice, dazzled by the wealth of novelty this bar had to offer.

"It's my first time in a place like this," she noted, innocently.

Juan chuckled, "I can tell." Finished with her careful visual study of Ash, she turned her attention to probing the girl with questions. "So where do you live, Ash?"

"Um, near the slums, about ten minutes from here. Why are you asking?"

"Just curious," she paused as the man from before re-entered, and they shared a brief muttered conversation that Ash paid absolutely no attention to. She was now fixating on the music, trying to figure out where it came from. Even with her absurdly sensitive ears, she simply could not figure it out. _Maybe it really does come from everywhere?_ she wondered, naive awe filling her soul.

"You don't mind if I beg off my shift for now then, Mars?"

"Nah, go ahead. You owe me one though," the man replied. Ash's attention had been drawn by his name, and she looked at him interestedly. Juan came back from behind the bar to sit next to Ash on one of the stools, cradling her own drink—a deep red liquid of some sort.

"Is that really his name?" the girl asked, wide-eyed.

"No, no," Juan chuckled again, "it's short for Marcel." She leaned her elbow on the bar, turned to face Ash. "So you live nearby. You look like you get into a lot of fights, mmm?"

"I guess, yeah," Ash frowned at this odd trail of questions.

"But I've never heard any stories about a super-human young girl"

_Ash, be on your guard,_ Inky advised from her shoulder,_ this woman may be excessively curious about you._

A small frown creased Ash's brow, _the way I rescued her was a bit showy, maybe that's why?_ She tried to defend her new friend.

_Perhaps. But perhaps not. So be on your guard. You need only be cautious, nothing more._

"Ash?"

"Ah! Ahhh, sorry, I got distracted by the, um, music."

"Oh yes, it is an excellent piece," her eyes twinkled, and Ash couldn't shake the impression that she was being read like a book, "are you familiar with it?"

"Uhm, no, I've only really heard Heaven music before..."

This seemed to surprise the sharp woman, derailing her interview, "what, you still believe? Really?"

"No that's not it, Lily just does the dances..."

"I see. She would have been around early on then. Or her mother. So, Lily? She's your friend?"

"It was her grandmother actually, and yep, Lily is my best friend!"

Juan smiled, "well, music is one of life's great pleasures, you should dedicate more time to it."

"I'm not really sure how to do that," Ash replied, rather bemused.

Juan was momentarily speechless. "Well. You can start by coming here more often!"

"I'd like that," a shy smile. Juan returned the smile.

* * *

They had paused to appreciate the music, Ash finishing her juice, when Juan asked, "Have you ever been out of the city?"

"Mm-mm," Ash made a lazy negative noise in reply, shaking her head.

"Ever thought about it?" the woman prodded curiously.

"Not really. There's not much out there is there?"

Juan smiled, "there's a lot out there, Ash. Where do you think your juice came from? There's just not as many buildings out there. Or people. Maybe that sounds like nothing to a city girl like you?"

Spinning on her seat, turning to face Juan directly, "Umm. Well, what else is there? Trees and things, right? And grass?"

"Trees and things!" Laughing, "Ash, you really need to see the world one day. Mountains and forests are a lot more than just 'trees and things'. And grass," she chuckled.

Ash was blushing by now. "Well, how was I supposed to know! What are they, then?"

Juan, smiling fondly, warming quickly to this artlessly adorable girl, "Well, you really have to see them. But they're... big. And deep. Hm, words fail me..." She spent a moment in thoughtful silence, "imagine a soaring mass of blue-white stone, so large it seems to dominate the sky. So heavy you can almost feel its weight on the air. That's a mountain."

Ash was now giving the same rapt attention to Juan that she had previously been giving the bar and its music.

"Or a deep, dark, hall, pillared with moss-covered wood, lit green and dappled with leaf shadow. Sometimes its silence wraps you like a blanket, sometimes its air is opened and wide with rustling branches and singing birds. That's a forest."

The young girl showed an almost worshipful expression, commenting, "I want to see some!"

Her smile having never faltered, the older woman murmured, "I hope you will get the chance, one day," Juan then took on a more serious air, and asked, straight to the point, "Ash. What will you do with that strength of yours?"

Inky, who was sitting lazily on the bar, perked its head up.

Blinking at the sudden change of subject, "What do you mean? I'm not really thinking about doing anything..."

"Well, you saved me. You may have saved my life." Juan looked terribly serious now, her face stern and controlled. Then it softened again, "I should thank you once more for that," a small smile, "but aren't there others who might need your help? The streets can be dangerous."

"But... I can't always be in the right time and place, can I?"

"You can raise the chances if you put effort into it. Besides, not every person's trouble has only one time or place, Ash"

"What—" Ash started her question, intent on asking what kind of effort Juan was suggesting, but Inky interrupted.

_Your mother, for instance._

Ash flicked her head to look at Inky in surprise, her short hair fluttering past her eyes at the sudden movement. _How do you know about mama?_

"What is it, Ash?" Juan was ignored.

Inky laid down again, stretching. _My knowledge is extensive, particularly my knowledge of you. I wouldn't make a contract with a girl without knowing some basic facts about her first._

Ash's eyes were fixed on Inky's. _Oh... so... you think I can save mama?_

_I did not say that. But you are a capable girl. Juan sees it, too._ A pause as Inky evaluated her expression._ Yes, I think you could save your mother._

"Ash?" the smart woman was concerned, seeing Ash staring at nothing, expression hovering between troubled and excited.

She looked back at Juan, a faint light of determination in her eyes, "sorry, Juan. I just remembered something I've got to do," inexperienced, Ash gave the oldest excuse in the book. Juan raised an eyebrow, fair thrumming with curiosity, but holding it back.

"You will come here again, of course?"

"Yes!" with a bright smile, Ash twirled off her stool and practically pranced her way out of the bar. Turning to offer a wave at the inquisitive Juan, she stepped off the front porch, and her smile vanished. Her mouth flattened into a grim line, and her eyes became stone-hard with resolution.

She marched out of the blazing, laughing street, and made her way towards the heavy, low slung silhouette of the Felwater mansion.


	4. Felwater

Felwater

In the shadow of a very tall, gleaming white wall, the small girl stood, her slight shoulder carrying a curious white creature, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. There was no one in sight. A breath, and the shadows burned scarlet, and the girl was wrapped in red and white and brown. She turned and jumped lazily halfway up the wall, pointing a hand to fuse a string—stretching from a knotted loop around a finger—to the smooth white surface. With the string as a handhold, she whirled herself over the top, landing with barely a crunch on the pebble gravel behind the wall. The white alien, having been flung off mid-whirl, landed back on her shoulder a moment later. She looked around, expression set in determination. A wide, wide open garden, neat lawns and pebbles, carved paving stones and elegant statues, flowering bushes and splashing fountains and a single, decorated gazebo. She hadn't been here before—the servant's entrance, still active even at this late hour, was all she had ever used. It was roughly opposite the front gate, leading to one wing of the mansion.

There were lamps in the distance, lining the main path to the front door, and strategically placed at points of interest in the vast enclosure. They were tastefully dim, and their light did not reach Ash. Simon Felwater was one of the poorer nobles, only a single layer of districts separating his from the edge of the city. _But this garden is so huge!_ Ash was quite amazed.

Placing feet gently, she reached the nearest stretch of paving stones, and made her way slowly around the enormous house. She was searching for a side door, not even sure if there was one. Weaving her path between the soft circles of light, Ash's interest was drawn to the intricate patterns on the stones she walked upon. They did not appear to depict anything in particular, but their angular complexity was eye-catching.

_Pay attention, Ash. There's someone nearby._

She quickly crouched, flicking her eyes left and right. Spotting a slow-moving silhouette near the corner of the garden. A guard.

_... Ash, don't move so suddenly,_ Inky, faintly disapproving, _humans are excellent at picking out quick movement, even in darkness._

Ash didn't reply, but resolved to follow the advice. She wondered why a noble would need a guard, remembering too the armed men at the auction house. It seemed excessive, considering their dominance over Theatre. It was certainly a nuisance.

_Should I knock him out?_

_No. I can stop the machines seeing _you_, but I can't help with others. A guard out of commision will not go unnoticed. Incidentally, you need not worry about thermal or ultrasonic imaging—you are fully hidden from any non-organic system._

She nodded, and continued on, prowling low in a slow and deliberately flowing movement. She was getting closer to the guard, close enough to see his gun, his armoured uniform, but made sure to keep bushes and statues between them. Heartbeats of silence later, and she was close enough to hear the man's steady treading. She opted to stay hunkered down behind a thick bush bearing heavy red flowers, and to wait patiently for the guard to move away. It was peaceful, listening as his boots trod on stone, and then crunched on gravel, and sometimes he rustled by a plant, progressively quieter.

Finally, Ash deemed the guard to be distant enough that his presence was no longer a major concern, and stole once more through the garden's obstacles, until she at last espied what she had been searching for—a door! A side door, and a perfect one at that, for her purposes. Convenient.

It was sunk into its wall, near the corner of the garden, no windows surrounding it, no glass set in its surface. It was very out of the way.

_Inky, what do you think that door is for?_ She was curious.

_Perhaps an access for the gardener?_

_Oh, that sounds right. The servant's entrance is just over that wall..._

She strolled confidently up to the entrance, and grasped its doorknob, twisting.

It was locked.

_Argh! Ash, you idiot, why wouldn't it be locked... _the girl berated herself. She sunk into a despondent crouch, wondering what to do next.

_I could break it down..._ this to Inky.

_Don't be absurd. A broken door would likely set off even more alarms than an incapacitated outdoor guard. _Inky's crisp reply.

Ash sighed. _You're right..._ She clutched her head, tugged at her hair ribbon, thinking hard. _What _wouldn't_ set off an alarm?_

_If you opened the door with the correct permissions, I would expect that to go unremarked._ Inky hopped off her shoulder, and sat on the ground with its deep eyes fixed on Ash. _Ash. I do not feel that you are the type to fall at the first hurdle._

"The first?" she murmured quietly, "I had to get over the wall and past the guard before this."

Inky, momentarily stumped.

_It was a figure of speech. Don't give up Ash, there should be a solution. You have magic. Magic does not follow simple rules._

"Right," she sighed. "Oh! I could control the guard, and make him open the door!" She stood up, eager to get going.

_Wait. Remember what Lily always says—think it through first. In what manner could this plan could go wrong? Is there an easier way?_

"Uh—," pause, "umm..." she sat down again, flopping to the ground with a _whumpf_, ribbons fluttering. _Well, _she thought to herself, _what would I have to do to make this work? First I need to touch the guard—that's easy. But what if he calls for help? Ok, so, I need to touch the guard without him spotting me... and I need to touch his head, actually. Controlling his hand won't stop him from setting off the alarm. _"Hmmm..." _It's hard, but I think I can do it._ She looked at Inky, and asked, "is there anything that can go wrong except for him setting off the alarm if he sees me?"

_He may not have the permissions to open the door._

"Oh! ...Argh! I didn't think of that." She turned her attention back to the confounding door. It had a keyhole. _If the guard has the right key, I wouldn't even need to control him... stealing it wouldn't be difficult._ Ash had some experience picking pockets._ But if he doesn't have it, how would I know? And how can I know which key I need? That solution doesn't use any magic, either. Inky thinks I can get help from magic..._ _Inky thinks magic is the key..._

She stared at the keyhole.

"Of course! I can just magic it open!"

Standing happily, Ash fished in her skirt's pocket for her house key. She held it, finger and thumb on the bow, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. Squeezing with her fingers, she gathered her scarlet magic and squashed it against the key. Its shape warped wildly, surface bubbling, stretching, parts popping off entirely only to be reabsorbed a moment later. Hardening at last, the key had taken a fanciful, tastelessly over-decorated form—ornamented with small ruby hearts, crimson ribbons and elaborate knots of golden thread, the blade of the key looked entirely impractical. There was simply no way this thing could open any door, let alone a lock reinforced with the modern secure technology.

Ash slid the key in the lock, turned it, and entered the mansion.

* * *

Tense with excitement, Ash took her first unauthorised step into the Felwater mansion. Inky brushed past her legs, cat-like. She retrieved her key, disenchanting it, and closed the door behind her. Soft quiet burst against her ears. She looked around. This part of the house was definitely less extravagant than what the garden had led her to expect—consequently, she decided this must be a servant's area. It fitted with what Inky had suggested earlier, that the door was for the gardener. Concentrating on the sounds around her, Ash could make out the clanks and rattles of pots and pans being put away. The kitchens weren't too far, then. There was little other sound. Inky scurried up her side, paws pressing to her skin, clinging to loose cloth until it reached her shoulder.

The corridor she was in was tiled in irregularly sized white and black squares, the walls panelled with a light, varnished wood. Doors were set in the wall every so often. Listening hard, Ash felt unable to move. The slightest such movement would make noise, which might mask the sound of an approaching servant. Hyper-aware of her senses, Ash was slowly overcome with a paranoid expectation. It was so much easier outside, with the music of fountains and slight winds providing a comfortable background hush.

_But, I need to rescue mama._

Bit by bit, Ash mastered herself. Inky remained silent, waiting patiently.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and crept down the hall. Whoever was tidying away in the kitchen had not yet finished. Ash didn't want to go there just yet, though. She was going to be careful, she was going to think things through. She would check every room on the way to the kitchens, making sure she had no one behind her. Approaching the first door in the hallway, she pressed her ear to its wooden surface. No breathing from inside. Nodding to herself, she moved on. Then she paused, curiousity striking out of the blue. She stepped back and opened the door. The inside was full of gardening tools. Another nod, full of confidence, and she shut the door with extreme care, creeping away again.

She carried on like this, pressing her ear to every door, until she reached a branch in the corridor—to the side, further down, there was the open entrance to the kitchen. Light poured from the opening, carrying warmth and pleasant smells. Straight ahead, the corridor continued as it was, all the way to a fancy double door, a patterned wooden frame set with stained glass panels. Ash guessed the door led away from the servant's wing, to the main mansion. The young girl took the turning, no hesitation in her step. Flitting from door to door, continuing her careful checks, she approached the kitchen.

Ash peered around the edge of the opening. The room was a familiar sight, though she had never seen it from this angle before. Metal and tile surfaces, tens of cupboards. She could see the doorway leading to the burner room—where she had shoveled coal every morning for the past three years. Apparently Felwater liked some of his food to be cooked over a coal fire. Far more coal was shoveled than necessary, however. She supposed that Felwater knew whose daughter she was—nobles tended to enjoy that sort of game.

There was a single maid in the kitchen, putting pans away in the cupboards. More unnecessary work—there was no technological reason why the whole trio of the washing, drying and storing of any object used in the kitchen could not be handled by a single mechanical system. Simon Felwater never even stepped foot in the servant's wing, to Ash's knowledge. Ash clenched her fists. She waited for a moment when the maid's back was turned before moving—taking the most efficient path through the obstruction-laden kitchen, keeping her centre of gravity as low as possible as she vaulted silently over the counter. In barely more than a second, she was hopping up behind the lady to reach around and tap on her forehead.

_Remember—I can only keep _you_ hidden from the surveillance._

_I know._

A silvery white thread trailed lightly through the air, tied to Ash's finger. She flicked it off, and it wrapped itself loosely around the servant's shoulders, the other end still firmly attached to her forehead. Humans were much easier to keep hold of than demons. She twisted around, jumping to sit on a counter. The long, brown-haired maid continued working, as though she had noticed nothing. _I hope Inky can hide the string too._

Mentally, she ordered the maid to tap her foot a number of times equal to the floor Felwater's bedroom was on—or slide it if she didn't know. Four taps. Next the woman scratched her right ear to say yes, Felwater had usually retreated to his private rooms by this time. And following that, an exhaustive series of questions, yes and no answers, left and right, taps and scrapes and nods and shakes. All the while continuing her work. At last, Ash had a vague understanding of the building's layout. The details were blurry, but she had a decent grasp of the skeleton of the mansion—the main corridors, hallways and certain rooms of note. A plan of action was beginning to take shape in her mind. The maid never once turned to see Ash. The string disappeared as Ash left the room, and the poor woman turned shakily around—relaxing, yet confused, when she saw no one. She did not understand the meaning of the many apparently purposeless motions she had been forced to make—that was the most peculiar game she had ever been subjected to, she thought. At least it had been painless.

* * *

Having checked every door in the last section of servant's corridor, and finding no one, Ash stepped up to the richly decorated door that separated the servant's wing from Felwater Mansion proper. She was confident. There was no one at her back except the maid and the guard outside. According to the maid, the Felwater guards resided in the barracks—another wing on the opposite side of the house. Thus, neither the guard outside nor the maid were a problem—they had no reason to enter this part of the building. She need only worry about what lay in front of her.

The moment her fingertips touched the cold metal handle, she froze—voices. Muffled, and far away. Breath held, she silenced herself and listened hard, flinching and grumbling internally at every clank from the kitchen. She still couldn't quite make out the voices—but they were coming closer! Maintaining a tense control over her movements, she forced them to be as quiet and precise as possible, stepping away from the door and moving back down the corridor to stand beside randomly chosen room. Ready to hide within at a moment's notice.

Two pairs of heavily booted footsteps approached. There were no more voices—a brief silence, not especially reassuring. Ash dithered as the boots neared the fancy door, finally deciding to enter the room now and spend the remaining time hiding properly. It was dusty, looking unused, boxes stacked high and overflowing with miscellaneous bits of machinery and electronics. Ash suppressed a sneeze as she edged past one of the towering piles, then crouched down and held her breath again for quiet. Voices again—

"Yeah, I don't believe it. Doors don't open themselves, you know? It's not like those cold bastards are perfect, they've raised hell over nothing before."

"It doesn't matter. We have to check anyway—Hm?" Both were men. They had just reached the double door and pushed it open. "You get that too?"

"Yeah. Another ghost door, great."

"Come on, the AI might not be perfect but two of the same mistake in a row? There's probably something going on here."

"Like, the same bug happening again?"

"Oh, for—let's just check. Start with the closest."

"Right."

The sound of a door swinging shut. The pair nearing the room she was hiding in. Her held breath was squeezing, fingers trembling. Heart rate rising, rising until it felt like her brain was about to be pounded out through her ears. _I should have left that stupid door alone!_

_Calm down, Ash. They are no match for you. You won't even need to cause permanent damage. A raised alarm is bothersome, but not the end of the world. They might not even find you._

She gulped, and pushed her breath out, then struggling to take another in. Calming herself, breathing manually as the two guards came closer. She was well out of sight, and her breathing had returned to normal when she heard a hand on the doorknob.

The guards gave the cluttered room a cursory glance.

"Looks empty enough to me."

The other laughed, "after all that crap about doing our duty..."

"I never mentioned duty. But we still have to do it. And now we've done it." He shut the door.

They walked away.

Ash sighed. _That was close._ She reached up to stroke Inky, who responded in a manner identical to a cat, minus the purring.

The guards stopped suddenly.

"Ugh. Micromanaging prick."

An exasperated huff. "Alright, then. You keep watch. I'll check the room again."

Once more, they approached the room, one of them opening the door and entering fully. Ash tensed, preparing. The guard moved about, looking behind stacks of boxes through his transparent visor, or shoving them out of the way. He grew nearer and nearer to Ash's hiding place. His foot stepped into sight. He peered around the pile. They locked eyes.

Striking like a snake, Ash snapped her forefinger against the visor, leaving a web of fractures and a string behind, the string already coiling around the man's helmet like a circlet. She winced at the loud crack of the contact, having struck far too hard, some measure of panic still infecting her control. The other guard jumped at the noise, raising the alarm and his gun, ready to shoot, but Ash was already below him—twirling to snatch the gun from his hands, feet following the twirl to arc up and smash against the side of his visor. Flung back, the guard hit the wall hard, staggered, but stayed standing. She followed rapidly, knocking his head against the wall again and yet again, and he finally dropped.

Ash looked down at the prone, dark-uniformed body beneath her. She knew she had been brutal, but knowing how much strength to use with those helmets in the way was hard. She glanced at the guard's gun in her hand. It was quite long, as long as her forearm, outstretched hand included, but very light. The first guard was standing gormlessly, still in the room. She decided to leave the string attached to him, figuring that it could only help, seeing how little magic she needed here. She loosened her grip, though. No use in wasting.

_The alarm must be going by now Ash. You should hurry. The man you're after may try to escape._

She straightened, nodded, and sprinted for the fancy doorway.

* * *

Ash burst through the doors separating the servant's wing from the mansion, running hard. As her feet beat the floor, she impressed her will on the gun in her hand, praying for _silence, safety, surety_. She wasn't watching, but she could feel it twist and swirl, writhing in her hand. With a clear note like a struck bell, the transformation ended. She spared a look at the new shape it had taken. _I don't remember asking for 'flashy'..._ a gun fit for royal hands—if royalty wanted a gun that didn't work. But Ash had full confidence that it would work perfectly, her very own soundless weapon, non-lethal and certain to hit, provided her aim wasn't _too_ awful.

She ran on, knowing the path she should take. Through this fantastically decorated corridor—plush carpet and patterened walls, framed paintings and beautiful plants—all the way to the atrium, then up to the top floor, the fourth floor. Passing doors and openings that showed cosy fire-lit drawing rooms or libraries bursting with books, a rarity.

At last, the grand, imposing doors to the atrium. Dark, heavy wood, looking incredibly thick. Expensive. Her fist crunched hard against them, a red pulse blasting them off their hinges.

As she loped, slowing, into the cavernous room,the opposite door also burst open, though less destructively. Guards poured in, newly mobilised from the nearby barracks, already aiming their rifles. At least a dozen, the little girl noted. They were, needless to say, more than a little shocked by the sight that met them. A girl in doll's clothing, carrying a determined expression and a fancy golden weapon, all ruby encrusted, the wreckage of the doors strewn haphazardly about her.

She flicked her gun once towards them, silent red flashes blinking in the unlit room, and vanished from their sight—blazing fast. Five fell, unconscious, red shimmers swirling over their bodies. Those remaining were still frantically searching about themselves when Ash, clinging high to the wall behind them, peppered them with more scarlet bullets. None were left standing. She was exceedingly pleased with her new weapon—but a little saddened with the rapidly diminishing supply of ammunition. She briefly considered hopping down to gather some fresh bullets, but, deciding it wasn't really that important, she kicked powerfully off the wall, cracking the wooden panels, sailing high into the air. The atrium was a room that reached all the way to the crystal clear roof, so Ash had no trouble reaching the fourth floor in one kick. Below, she heard yet more tramping footsteps, these in eerie unison.

Dropping neatly on the landing, at the top of four flights of stairs, she stepped quickly into the corridor straight ahead—the only path into the fourth floor from the atrium—and turned around, facing the entrance. Then she held a finger before her eyes and slashed it repeatedly across her vision of the passage. Each movement left a humming string behind, bridging the narrowest point of the entry, until the way was blocked by a messy web of threads. Twirling, she set off once more at a run, for one of the two remaining flights of stairs. She wanted to reach them both before Felwater had a chance to flee. She hoped there were no secret passages, or even better, that Felwater would have confidence in his guards, not moving from his rooms.

Moving rapidly, she ignored the doorways and lesser corridors she passed, taking the main route, the simplest route, heading as quickly as possible to the stairway closest to the servant's wing. The thick carpet here muffled her steps, and the only noises were the guards below, barely audible now, and the various swishes of her own loose clothes. Fewer than twenty seconds had passed when she reached the stairs, and she left another barrier of strings—this one placed in a fraction of the time, as Ash clawed the white threads into existence with all five fingers, gun still held tightly in the other hand.

Now for the last stairway. This final objective was directly opposite the second staircase, and the intervening corridor would have been a simple, long, straight path, were it not for the odd U-shaped detour in the middle. As the girl ran the length of this detour, she noted in passing some of the names engraved in metal plaques on the doorways lining the outside curve of the U—_Research, Engineering, Transmission, Medicine—_noting also the absence of rooms on the inside curve. She wondered if this detour was due to the size of Felwater's private rooms.

Ash popped her head round the last corner—and pulled it back in fast, gasping, as bullets ripped the air apart, scattering off the wall.

_When did they get there! I didn't hear anything!_ A panicked complaint, sent to Inky.

_It's hard to be sure. But this carpet muffles sound quite well. As for the stairs, I don't know._

Ash huffed in frustration. She was sure she had only recently heard the others still downstairs—perhaps this group had been sent straight here? It _was_ the stairway closest to the barracks after all. Staccato bursts of gunfire, and more bullets thunked into the corner's outside wall. It made her nervous. She angled herself so she could see the other corridor branch, the corridor that led here from the atrium. It formed a T-junction with the cornered corridor as the horizontal bar. It was quite a way away, and given how quickly they had reacted to her presence, she wasn't sure she wanted to try for it.

After a moment's thought, she poked her own gun round the corner, intent on letting the magic deal with the aiming—but the gun bucked, buckling with an unpleasant crunch as bullets smashed its casing, and she whipped her hand away, gasping again. The enchantment vanished, leaving a broken, black wreck behind.

_These guys are way better than the others!_

_Indeed. I wonder—_

A black object sailed past the bend, bouncing heavily off the wall with a clunk and settling not far from Ash. Its surface was tiled with thick squares of metal.

_What's that?_

_Kick it away!_ sent Inky, sounding almost panicked.

Lightning fast, she flicked her foot out, ribbon trailing, and connected with the hard metal, sending it clattering down the stem of the T-junction, in the direction of the atrium.

_Whump. Roar._

She clapped her hands over her ears, flinching. A pound shook the air, rattling her bones. She launched herself backwards as roiling flame poured out from the corridor she had kicked the sphere down, rolling around the corner. It stopped far short of her, dissolving into smoke in an instant.

The structure of the corridors was unharmed, only the decor scorched off, revealing a dull grey material.

_What _was_ that?_ Ash, pale faced and shaken.

_A grenade. Fire, shock and sharp bits of hot metal—stay out of their way._

_R-right._

_Now, I suggest you use this chance to see if you can make any headway against these guards._

Nodding, Ash sidled up to the edge of the corner, and peered round. Thick smoke, the stink of burnt carpet. No bullets. Holding her breath, Ash threw herself into the obscured corridor, charging straight for the guards—she'd have to deal with them at some point. Accelerating hard, she waited for the smoke to begin thinning out and—dived. Throwing herself high and fast, flipping mid-jump to step twice on the ceiling, then kick herself back to the ground just as the guards began firing upwards. She was very close, but—as she dodged to the right, braking immediately to jump and bounce once more from above—their bullets were practically grazing her cheeks, often nailing through spaces she had been about to step into. _They're so fast!_ They seemed to be perfectly normal guards, maybe fifteen of them.

Despite their apparent alacrity, she managed to close enough to start laying waste, stringing two guards along, dancing between gaps and chopping with the edge of her hand to the back of the neck. Her claimed guards tackled others, disabling their weapons. It wasn't long before they littered the floor, some few still groaning. She silenced these final few with heavy blows to the head, and vanished her strings, the two guards having been knocked out during the fight.

_How were they so fast, Inky?_

Inky was standing in the corridor, back where the smoke had been thick. _They weren't. They were well co-ordinated. I believe the security AI of this building was directly controlling them. They moved as one._

_Oh... I thought the AI couldn't see me?_

_Indeed. Perhaps it was estimating your location via the automatic reflexes of the guards, rather than sensory data. I'm surprised such a method was as effective as it seemed to be. I imagine the tight corridor served to facilitate their effort, while the number of guards added redundancy and helped with error correction. I reserve my judgement—the situation is complex—but in the meantime I suggest making use of wide open areas._

_Ok. I'll remember._

She turned to the stairway and laid a barrier across it. The top floor was now isolated. All there was to do now was go and find Simon Felwater.

* * *

Palm to another fancy set of double doors, Ash pushed steadily. Crunching and cracking, the doors gave way, collapsing. She stepped into Felwater's private rooms. Inky was curled around the back of her neck. She could hear a man breathing, and his heart beating. She hoped it was Felwater. _I better not have come all this way for nothing!_

She marched through the rooms, aiming straight for the sound of breathing. As she walked, she stared. Such richness! It drew forth a bitter taste in Ash's mouth. Precious materials, metals, furs, woods, crystals. Every piece of furniture was a work of art. A private study, with heavy desk and decorated ink bottles. It didn't look particularly used. Maybe it was new. Sticks of incense and an odd smell floating in the air. Another room, a smoking room? This had an opened box full of varied, compartmentalised herbs and powders. Ash recognised nothing.

The next room was the bedroom. Felwater was standing there, legs shaking, handgun pointed in Ash's direction. The silky bedsheets were thrown messily, some spilling from the huge, ornate four-poster bed to the floor. He was dressed in a sleeping gown, shortish, stumpy. Almost fat, but technology wouldn't allow that. Dark hair and eyes, like Ash's.

She walked slowly over to him, measured steps and dark expression, and his legs were shaking harder and harder, his pistol almost rattling out of his hands. He didn't shoot, even when Ash reached up to grip his forehead. He looked on the verge of tears, but suddenly his expression slackened. Strings sprang up around his body, pinning his arms and legs together, binding his mouth and blindfolding him, some reaching up to attach to the ceiling. He was hoisted into the air, dangling freely, supported by arms, knees and shoulders. His pistol hit the floor with a muted clunk.

Grim faced, Ash mentally commanded him to do everything necessary to free his collection of bought women and clear their names as much as he could, even from his own records. He sent her the knowledge that several were still physically restricted. He needed only his implants to complete these tasks. Then she ordered him to send her a map of the building and surroundings, blinking as her neglected internal imaging functions flickered into life. She took a moment to familiarise herself with their use—it was easy, somehow instinctive. Finally, she asked for him to relay to her the exact location of Andrea Rake, her mother.

She then looked up at her gently swinging prey. Making a grasping gesture in the air, she brought his head down to her level and struck hard. Unconsciousness was immediate, and she tore her control away with it. _Maybe he'll learn something, helpless like that._ Visciously spitting at his feet, she turned sharply around to go rescue her mother.

Inky sighed.

* * *

...

* * *

Felwater swung left, swung right, as the girl's light footsteps left the room. His eyes opened blearily. The nobles' suite of implants was much more comprehensive than the commoners'—recovery from unconsciousness was well supported. His internal clock confirmed that indeed, only a few seconds had passed.

Safe now that her cruel presence had gone, he ranted silently at his guards, his AI, all failures. He had lost so much dignity. He had almost lost his life. And that vile little girl was stealing his harem, his most expensive possession.

He whined and lamented his misfortune for a full minute before calming down enough to think. He struggled a little, testing his bonds, but they were strong. He wondered about calling for help—no one owed him any favours, indeed he owed quite a few, but this situation... after another moment's thought, he called for help. Then, an idea struck. The girl had mentioned a name—that was one of his harem members, right?

Spite.

He issued an order.

They had no choice but to listen.


	5. Luxury

Luxury

Ash left Felwater's rooms eagerly, but in no particular rush, the danger of her mission essentially over. She rooted around here and there to pocket a few expensive-looking trinkets—a gold pen, a watch, and others—betting on finding a way to sell them. Lily's family needed the money. Walking past the ruin of the main doors, she paused to look around, and heard, back from the stairway nearest the servant's wing, someone climbing the stairs—slowly. She wondered who might be moving around so calmly this night, other than herself of course. The curious girl set off to investigate, Inky waving its tail gently as she turned a corner. Whoever it was had reached the top of the stairs, and was now pushing on her stringy barrier—she could feel it, a slight pressure on her willpower, somehow located where the barrier was, as though her mind had become huge.

Reaching the last corner, she peered around it. It was the guard she had strung earlier that night—the first guard to face her. The string was still wrapped around his helmet, but Ash had left him his autonomy, saving her magic. She watched as he investigated the barrier before him, a web of silvery threads loose enough to reach an arm through. Idle curiosity sated, Ash left him to it, and jogged back to the atrium staircase. She banished the barrier there, not bothering with the other two since they required so little effort to keep up. She paused at the top to listen, in case that group of guards were still hanging around. Nothing seemed to be nearby. Hopping over the bannister, she fell, air rushing past her ears, hands keeping her skirt and loose top firmly in place. She landed gracefully as ever, and began her walk through the vast house, heading for the main basement stairway.

And then, a gunshot, sharply loud.

Ash flinched, almost ducking instinctively, but it had come from ahead, from down the stairway. An eerie silence followed the shot. After a moment of shocked stillness, the girl exploded into action, sprinting for the stairs she could not yet even see.

As she ran, she heard two more gunshots. Closer, she could hear the thud of heavy objects battering against flesh. Barrelling round a corner and throwing herself down the stairs, Ash moved into the basement without a break in her stride.

A huge, long room—bunks and tables nearby, barred cells lining the walls further down, the room was richly decorated and luxurious, soft carpet and plush chairs, yet left no space for personalisation. Scattered around the room, shiny egg-sized black orbs sat in stark contrast to the pale carpet.

And halfway down its length, she saw—a great crowd of women, wearing either nothing or close to it, all silently intent on reaching through the bars of a cell, or violently shaking its door—new arrivals, a dozen guards laboriously and methodically beat and shot their way through the desperate throng—and on the floor, trampled underfoot, numerous bodies both dead and alive, blood pooling and soaking, those still living ignoring their wounds and reaching, as ever, for the dull grey bars.

According to her internal map, in that cell was her mother.

Cold static buzzed in her ears, and she charged into the fray with an unconscious cry of fear—wading into the mass of confusion, indiscriminately thrashing at her surroundings, heaving aside the assailants and levelling the entire group. They staggered and tripped, falling over themselves or tangling with others.

Shoving aside one last woman, Ash reached the bars at last, feeling relief at their smooth grey, undamaged state, then dull horror at what she saw within—her mother, her mama, brutally cracking her own head against the patterned wall she was strapped to.

With a harsh gasp, the little girl gripped the obstructing bars, wrenching them aside, and finally lunged inside, blocking her mother's head with a gentle hand, then stroking a forefinger on her forehead. Andrea immediately relaxed, string threading itself through her hair. She slipped into unconsciousness.

Ash stared at her mother, breath hitching at the sight of the blood staining the wall before her, the blood matting her mother's hair.

Her ears warned her in time—whipping round, Ash sighted a guard, first to disentangle himself from the heap of toppled women, finding his feet at last. Ash, faced with a clear enemy, growled, furious. She grabbed a broken bar as she stormed out of the cell, smashing it against the man's ribs. Then she set about unearthing as many guards as she could find, venting her anger, thumping helmeted heads against the ground or tossing them bodily against the walls or ceiling of the expansive room.

On her last guard, a shout from the stairway drew her attention.

"Hey!"

She looked over. Another guard—he was pointing at something behind her. She knocked out the guard in her hands, then started forward dangerously, but he only gestured more frantically. Looking round, she saw one of the women scrabbling towards the opening in the cell's bars. Frustration. She marched over to the bare woman, yanking her by her blonde hair and jabbing a finger to her forehead. Then she span to face the new guard again. He was still standing by the stairs, obviously hesitant to come any nearer. Ash finally recognised him—the cracked visor—it was the same guard she had controlled earlier. She reasserted her grip, and brought him closer, his legs moving against his will.

Relaxing again once he was near, she looked at him expectantly, as if awaiting an explanation, as he stood there amid a groaning pile of humanity. No different from any other guard, save the fissures and string adorning his visor, his face behind the transparent screen was rugged, unshaven, his clear eyes standing out. He shifted, unnerved by the control but not unaccustomed to it.

"Uh... I heard the shots," he looked around, and offered a hand, "you're wrecking this place. No one's ever managed _that_ before. I want to help. If I can, that is."

Ash blinked, reordering her thoughts. A brief moment of wary consideration, then she brushed her fingers against his. "Okay," she looked around at the women, "I need to get these ladies under control. Go and guard my mama's cell, ok?"

He cracked a nervous grin—amused despite himself by her choice of words—and replied, "Alright," moving to stand in the gap in the bars, where Ash was pointing.

Ash crouched to lift a sparsely clothed woman sprawled on the floor, tapping her forehead with a finger. Replacing her, she stepped to the next, keeping the guard in her field of vision. He was, Ash noticed, paying proper attention to the women nearest the cell. Very diligent.

_Do you trust him?_ sent Inky, from his perch on her shoulder.

_If he tries anything, I'll know. And I can stop him straight away. I'll even watch him anyway. I'm not worried._

"I'm Mark, by the way."

Meeting his eyes for a moment, "Ash," she replied shortly. She returned to her work, wrestling with another mindlessly intent woman. Mark watched, fascinated—silvery threads appearing out of nowhere and a noble's command contested—and wondered what this would lead to.  
As Ash progressed, averting her eyes from the occasional raw wounds she came across, some few of the women she had touched were standing—freed from the noble's order, strings curling round their heads like circlets—and moving to help their friends or fellow sufferers. They had been aware from the beginning, neither the implants nor Ash's control allowed their victims the relief of unconsciousness, and so they kept their distance from Ash—affording her respect but slightly intimidated, too. The wounded or bruised women Ash freed immediately curled around their pain, moaning. The less hurt were usually quick to help, but some held back, scowling. Three women were dead, two alive but bleeding. The whole affair was subdued.

Ash's anger at her mother's assailants melted as she saw them help each other, and she berated herself for not keeping a level head. It was hard not to blame them, instinctively, when she had watched them try to attack her mother—even if it wasn't their fault—but it was harder to stay angry while their hurt was so apparent.

Done at last with the thirty-odd women on the floor, Ash started on the five other cages, grabbing the heavy locks and ripping them open, then stringing each woman before snapping their restraints. Some of those who had been outside the cells rushed in to help, catching and supporting while the imprisoned women caught their strength.

Finally finished and with thirty-five adults under her control—even passive—Ash was beginning to feel the strain. Each mind under her wing pulled in separate directions, leaving her feeling like she had no attention to spare. Exhausted, she withdrew a pair of grief cubes from her pocket, holding them against the dimming gem at her throat. Once these were used up, she'd have only one left. Fatigue was lifted from her shoulders, but it did not make her task much easier, and nor was she particularly cheered up. She felt bitter with renewed anger—

_Felwater is the only one who could have made this happen, right?_

_Given the circumstances... I would think so._

—Anger at herself. _I shouldn't have left him uncontrolled... How could he have woken up so quickly?_

_I do not think your error was in leaving him uncontrolled. That would have been a needless waste of power._

She frowned, confused, _then what?_

"Hey," said Mark. Ash looked up. Inky rested snugly on her shoulder, its body language emanating finality, "Are we going to get out of here then?" Mark continued.

Looking around at the big crowd, Ash nodded. It would be good to get the weight of all these disparate purposes off her magic. She slipped past Mark to free her mother from the thick white straps pinning her to the wall, then lifted her up. It felt very strange to be holding her like this. Deep down a three-year younger Ash protested her own actions—it was the wrong way round. _Mama should be carrying me._ It didn't help that she was naked. But she shook herself, and set off, climbing the stairs. Behind her, Mark made sure the wounded were looked after before following, lending a jacket and a shoulder to a lady with a hurt leg.

"I'm coming back in, after," Ash stated, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Mark nodded, "I'll come too. I want to see."

One of the women added her own voice, "I wouldn't mind seeing him either,"

"You gonna kill him?"

"We're talking about Simon, right?"

Others chimed in. Many of the rescued women were withdrawn, stunned looks on their faces or even outright sobbing, but some few were still normal enough to break the silence with chatter. One tapped Ash on the shoulder, hand passing straight through Inky, "I'm Lisa by the way," shoulder length red curls contrasting against bare, pale skin, "thanks for helping us, but what are we supposed to do now?"

Further back, a black haired, short woman in a briefly cut Chinese dress and bare feet spat in disgust, "Thanks for nothing. I was pretty comfortable here, what the hell am I going to do out there?" Ash flinched.

"Shut _up_ you bitter piece of—"

"Well I kinda wanna know too, what _are_ we going to do?"

Ash hunched her shoulders.

"I'm with Vicky. Every now and then a night of work, and the rest is easy living. And now...?"

"_What._ How can you—" this from a woman desperately trying to comfort another.

"Hey, hey, calm down girls," the red-haired woman, again. "And Victoria, don't you think that's a bit—"

"How am I supposed to know!?" Ash suddenly cried out, scrunching her eyes and shouting at the floor, "I didn't even come for you, I came for mama! Figure yourselves out!"

There was a pause as those women paying attention to the whole affair readjusted their view of their powerful saviour.

"Hey now..." Lisa laid a hand on Ash's shoulder. Inky hopped to the other side.

Ash sniffed, "Anyway, I got Felwater to free all of you. And delete you from his records, stuff like that. I don't know what else I can do for you..."

The women quieted down, placated.

"Wait," there was no end, "you did all that, but you left him alive? What's up with that?"

Ash breathed in shakily, harried and confused, "but... isn't killing bad...?"

"Not if it's a noble!"

"If it's someone like old Simon, I'd say it's a good thing..."

"Yeah, Annabel, he deserves it."

_There are times when it is more practical to end life than to attempt rehabilitation._ Inky's voice sounded as upbeat as ever.

_What's rehabilitation?_

_Teaching someone bad to be a good person. This society does not really afford you the luxury to try it—nor could you imprison or otherwise disable the man without expending resources you cannot afford to waste. That's why you should have killed him._

"Oh..." she replied, a quiet noise, her brow showing a very slight worried crinkle as she looked down at her mother.

"Say, that's the atrium isn't it?"

Ash looked up again as they approached the big room. She let out a sigh. Mark handed his burden over to someone else before catching up to the little girl, walking on the other side to Lisa. He patted her shoulder. Inky ignored it.

"Maybe I should do it for you, lass," he said gently.

Ash swallowed nervously and shook her head, unable to make a decision, staying silent. She stopped before the front doors, still shut and locked. She paused, then turned to Lisa, the red-haired woman.

"Here, hold her for me?" she handed her mother over. Lisa nodded, handling the unconscious woman with care.

Ash punched the doors out, then remembered the guard outside. She trotted out of the building, fresh air and a new purpose, trivial though it might be, helping to distract her. The others followed more slowly into the warm night air, finally beginning to wonder exactly what made this girl so capable. After a short while searching, Ash decided he must have been called inside, possibly via the guards' wing. She trudged back to relieve Lisa of her load, then led the group to the front gates. Glancing around, she placed her mother down on the warm grass, sitting her up against the white garden wall.

_Inky, do you think you can keep watch over mama?_

_Yes, I can do that._

Nodding, the girl then broke the hinges of one half of the tall garden gate, knocking it over. She looked at the group she had freed.

"Ok. I'll keep you protected from the control until... until I don't need to any more. I don't know what else I can do. So..." she shuffled her feet, "good luck, ok?"

There were some murmurings of thanks, and Lisa crouched a little to ruffle Ash's hair with a soft hand, and the women left, the bitter one from earlier marching out with a foul look on her face. Ash watched them leave.

"Well, Felwater might have called for help, so we should hurry," Mark prompted, waving a hand at the mansion.

"Right," she cast a glance at Inky, who had leapt down to sit by her mother, _thanks_, and flared her power, sending Mark sprinting down the path almost twice as fast as a human should be able to manage. Mark was caught totally off guard, while the girl kept up with a relaxed gait, and the two disappeared into the mansion.

_A useful ability, _the white creature thought to itself. It sat perfectly still for five more seconds, looking at Andrea.

Then it vanished.

* * *

Inside, Ash had just clambered up to the fourth floor in a series of jumps, dragging Mark with her with the help of countless extra strings. Staggering, the former guard caught his balance with a gasp, then found himself running once more. He noticed he could reach even higher speeds if he made an effort to run at the same time. As they neared the doors to the private rooms, Ash slowed. Mark looked back, a question on the tip of his tongue, but the girl shook her head, indicating, and they made their way together into the bedchamber. Felwater was still hanging there, suspended by the mass of threads Ash had made earlier, and, seeing them, began struggling desperately—to no avail. He prayed for the help to hurry up.

Ash stared up at the wriggling man, stepping closer, steeling herself, stilling her trembling. Their eyes met, his full of fear and hers full of apprehension. She looked back at Mark, who gave her a firm nod, his clear grey gaze encouraging. She grasped the air, pulling the noble's head down, until it was level with her waist. She could no longer see his eyes. But more importantly—she grabbed a thick bunch of strings wrapped around his head and leading to the ceiling, preparing to jerk them back, preparing to snap his neck. She swallowed, mouth gone dry.

"Hang on, that might not finish him."

"Wh-what?" she turned again to stare at Mark.

"Well, see, nobles have all the best enhancements, right? Maybe a broken neck wouldn't be sure enough to keep him from being recovered, later. Oh, and, can you check to see if he sent for help?"

Very aware of the cool sweat trickling down her cheek, Ash nodded silently, lifted Felwater again and pressed a thumb to his forehead. A moment later, the strings keeping his mouth gagged vanished, and he spoke, voice hoarse but toneless—

"I called for help. It will arrive in less than ten minutes. They sent soldiers—they hope you are Ashley Rake. Someone immune to orders is too dangerous to ignore. Two would be a disaster."

"Right then," said Mark, business-like, hiding his interest at the comment, "let's get this over with."

Staring at the noble's flat eyes, Ash finally admitted, "I... I don't think I can do it." She took a step back, feeling her neck and shoulders loosen suddenly. She hadn't noticed how tense she had been. Her hands were still shaking.

"Alright, alright," Mark patted her head roughly, "don't worry about it."

He stepped past her, drawing his gun.

He pointed it at Felwater's head, between the eyes.

Suddenly afraid, Ash threw herself from the room, hands jammed over her ears, almost making it to the double doors, but alas—_bang—_she could even hear the bullet crunching through his skull, the fluids splashing on the floor. Gasping, Ash fell to her knees, and curled up, desperately trying not to imagine what it had looked like.

A timeless moment passed, with eyes squeezed shut and ears hearing nothing.

A hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"... I'm sorry, lass. I didn't realise... you seem pretty strong, you know?"

She lowered her hands from her ears, sniffled, and stood up, head hanging. She nodded despondently.

"Come on, we should leave... though... do you happen to know where we might find any laboratories, things like that?"

Looking up slowly, Ash replied, "I got Fe-... him, to give me a map, uhm... there's a room called 'Research' this way."

"That sounds perfect. Lead on."

* * *

As they walked, Ash calmed down somewhat. Mark was itching to hurry, but willing to give her time to clear up. They reached the room at last, labelled _Research_, two doors down from _Transmission_. Ash knocked it in, and Mark entered to rummage around. Not knowing what he was looking for, and therefore unable to help, Ash waited quietly, thinking.

She worried, briefly, about her mother, but remembered Inky would keep her safe. She thought about Lily, back at home, suddenly worrying whether it was ok to leave people she cared about alone at night in a city infested with demons. She resolved to ask Inky if Lily was in any danger. Her thoughts touched on Juan, the lady at the bar, and the mountains she had spoken of.

Finally, Mark came out again, pocketing a handful of plastic squares.

Ash was curious, "what are those?"

"Backups! Data. It's stuff about implants. It's meant to be, anyway. I know someone who knows—well, lots of people know someone like that. But I know someone important," he sounded very pleased.

"Uhm, what do you mean?"

"Ahh, don't worry about it. It's important data, that's all you need to know. It's all _I_ need to know, really. I'm not learned enough to do anything more with this stuff. Now, let's get out of here,"

"Ok..." Ash replied, not in the least satisfied by his answer.

They left the mansion.

* * *

When they got back to the garden gates, Inky was sitting on Andrea's head, all curled up. Ash trotted over, bending to lift her mother and sending another thank you to Inky.

_It was nothing._

They finally left the grounds, walking briskly, with several minutes to spare before the 'help' arrived. Ash dispelled her barriers, the threads holding Felwater's corpse, and all thirty-five of her controlling strings. She instantly felt the effects—her stress floating away, tight muscles loosening. It had been too much, far too much, she decided.

_Inky, I forgot until now—are Lily and her family going to be safe, alone at night? With demons around, I mean._

_Most likely, yes. Remember, there have always been demons here. The chance of a particular person being targeted any one night is very low._

Ash frowned. _That's good, but there's still a chance... can you check?_

_Hmm. _Inky waved its tail. _The house is out of my immediate range._

Ash sighed, drawing a sidelong look from Mark.

The streets were dark, but there was still the sound of cheer floating through the air, coming from those bright streets nearby. It was not yet even midnight, after all.

Mark hesitated, glancing at Ash.

"Where are you going, lass?"

"Near the slums. It's called Rion Street."

"Right. I'll take you there."

"Oh, um, thanks," Ash was a little surprised.

"Heh, I guess it's a bit absurd, seeing how strong you are, but you know, I wouldn't like to let a young girl walk these streets alone..." he rolled up his shirt sleeves, bothered by the heat of the night.

Ash nodded, nonplussed.

They kept to the darker streets, Ash not wanting to make a show out of her naked mother. She held Andrea close, only her supernatural balance and poise keeping her from fumbling or toppling. Sighing quietly, she looked down at her mother's face, peaceful in sleep, barely able to believe that after so long—she could see her again.

After some five minutes of walking, Andrea stirred. Ash caught her breath and stopped dead, staring at her mother's usually proud features. Eyelids fluttering, the woman slowly rolled her head side to side, shifted her arms, and finally opened her eyes to meet her daughter's intent gaze.

"Ashley?" she sounded weary, cottony, surprised, confused.

Ash instantly dropped her mothers legs, wrapped both arms around her mother and laughed, "mama!" Happy tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.

Squashed tightly against her daughter, Andrea could barely laugh in reply, lifting her own arms to hold Ash.

"Hello, Ashley," she smiled.

"Mama, I, I missed you—"

She felt the first sob wrack her daughter's body, and held tighter.

"Ashley... it's fine now. It's ok." Andrea stroked her short hair and murmured encouragement as she cried out the loss of the last three years. As Ash calmed down, Andrea fingered the ribbon on her daughter's head curiously. When the girl finally pulled away, her mother pushed her back a bit, keeping hold on her arms, trying to get a good view. She chuckled.

"Where did you get those, Ash?"

"H-huh?" still sniffling, Ash expressed her confusion.

"Those clothes," she clarified, smiling.

"Oh!" now blushing, Ash was at a loss. Where should she start? "Uhm... I'll tell you on the way home." She looked at Mark, who had been standing rather awkwardly to the side. Andrea followed her eyes, blinking at Mark.

"I suppose you have a lot to tell me. Who's this, Ash?"

"That's Mark. He was a guard at Felwater, but I freed him. He's walking us home now."

"Hi," Mark gave the customary greeting. Andrea nodded absently in response.

"You... freed him," she wondered, gaze sliding back to Ash. She stood up, rising to her full height, as tall as Mark. Her long, dark hair reached the small of her back. Her smoothly curved figure was distracting enough that Mark kept his eyes firmly pointed in the opposite direction. Her steady, dark eyes scanned the narrow street they were in, then landed on Ash again. "Well then. We had best get going, and you can tell me what you mean by that."

They set off. Andrea walked with long strides and absolute confidence, ignoring the twinges of pain from the back of her head—her years in captivity had burned away the shame of nakedness, and her time comforting her daughter had placed her firmly in a position of strength, of responsibility. For now, she was the leader. She could deal with her own issues later.

She held Ash's hand tightly in her own, and Ash could not stop smiling.

"And tell me what you've been doing these past years, too."

Trotting to keep up, while Mark strode slightly ahead, Ash was bursting with stories to tell. She knew they were close to home, though, so she decided to restrain herself for now—the biggest story was the most recent, after all.

"I became a magical girl."

This simple statement had both adults raising their eyebrows.

"And what does that mean?" Andrea wasn't sure what to expect.

"It means I can do magic! See—" Ash waved a finger in the air, trailing a red glow. Then she made a silvery cat's cradle out of thin air.

Andrea stared, while Mark thought over the events of the night. Mark had been witness to too many abnormalities to dismiss the idea without consideration, but Andrea's only chance to see her daughter in action so far had been robbed by Felwater's brutal command.

"How did you... become magical?" Andrea had trouble phrasing her question.

"I made a contract with Inky, uhm, Inky is invisible, he's on my shoulder at the moment. He's a bit like a cat."

"A contract?" Andrea frowned deeply, "I don't like the sound of that, Ashley. I really don't like the sound of that."

"I, I had to make it! Lily was in trouble," Ash defended herself.

The mother was quiet for a moment. "Alright, tell me what happened."

In a rush, Ash spilled her story, "Lily was taken by auction people, then Inky spoke to me and helped me find her, then he offered me the contract, he said I could make a wish, anything I wanted," the adults started in surprise, "so I asked him to make them leave her alone," she hesitated, "and then, that night, I found out I had magic."

Andrea felt there were plenty of missing details, but she was willing to wait for them.

"So what do you pay, in this contract?"

"Uhm, I have to give all my used-up cubes to Inky. I don't have a use for them anyway. I get cubes by killing demons, and then I use them to power up again. They're like food, for me."

"Demons?!"

"Yep. There are demons all over the city. They eat people," Mark choked on his gasp, "but normal people can't see them. Inky can't kill them on his own, and even if he could he'd have no way to fill up the cubes. So he needs my help."

Both adults were silent, contemplating this new information.

"Oh, and, he does it because he needs cubes to increase energy or something."

_Recover usable energy._

"Right. Recover usable energy."

Andrea's eyebrow twitched. "So you're a fuel source?"

"Ummm... I—" she fell silent suddenly.

_No. Fuel gets used up. Magical Girls are never used up. That's why you're important—you're the only thing that can hold back the decay of the universe._

"Um, Inky says no. He says, I don't get used up, so I hold back the decay of the universe."

_Say entropy._

"He says to say entropy."

The light of recognition shone in Mark's eyes. "Entropy is the kind of thing my brother's interested in. Though, I forget what it's about. Physics, I think."

Andrea shook her head, "I've never heard of it. I wouldn't mind learning about it, now."

"If you want, I can introduce you to Eustace," Mark still wasn't looking in their direction, "he loves to talk about that stuff. Information and stuff."

Andrea blinked, "I thought it was about energy."

"Uh..." Mark was caught in his tracks.

_Information is involved too. Abstractly._

"Inky says it's about information too, um, abstractly," Ash solved the conundrum.

"Right, right. Anyway, Eustace'd explain it. He'd probably want to see Ashley—"

"Ash." the girl protested.

"—Ash, too, for other reasons," Mark corrected himself, then added, as a mumbled afterthought, "Crux would, too."

Ash was curious, but the adults were already arranging to meet the next day, in the evening—Andrea wanted to understand exactly what was going on with Ash.

"So, you can do magic. What kind of things can you do? What did you do to free Mark?"

Ash eased her hand from her mother's firm grip, twirled once, for show, then sped down the dark street, barely slow enough for the eye to follow. She stopped at a corner to snap her fingers with a flash of red, then leapt once, twice, high into the air, and was standing by her mother again, reaching eagerly for her hand once more.

"It makes me strong!" Ash was proud, and smiled at her mother's amazement, "and, I can control people."

Andrea sobered at that, a shadow passing over her face, "Control people? Like a noble?"

"Oh, no, it's different," Ash sounded surprised at the question, "when I control people it's like I'm moving my arm or something."

"I don't think that matters, Ashley," Andrea's voice was shaky with suppressed horror.

"W—what do you mean?" the girl replied, with a note of confused worry.

"You're taking people's free will! It's exactly what nobles do. It's what Felwater did to me! That's not a good thing, Ashley!" she scolded her daughter, snatching her hand away and standing arms akimbo.

Ash flinched, "I—I know that, I know I'm taking their free will... but... it didn't seem wrong to me," she stepped back with a hurt expression, feeling like the answer was just out of reach.

Her mother hesitated at the sight, her eyes softening slightly.

Inky interjected, _The nobles' actions_ _are what condemn them, not their methods._

"Right! It's what the nobles _do_ with their power that makes them bad. I'm not like that!"

Andrea frowned, having watched Ash's expressions change as she listened to Inky, "I'm not arguing with this 'Inky', Ash, I'm arguing with you." She gritted the words out.

_That's foolish. An argument holds worth no matter who advances it._

Ash bit her lip, _I don't think that's what mama means... I need to think about this._

The white creature waved its tail softly, _Then, promise me we will talk on this subject, later._

Ash nodded. "Okay mama, I'll think about it. For myself," she reached for her mother again.

Andrea drew another breath, then seemed to give in, releasing it as a sigh. "It's important Ashley. Don't put it off. Promise me we'll talk about this again."

She couldn't stay strict, she decided—not now, so soon after reuniting—and when her daughter nodded with an earnest "I promise," she quickly relented, letting Ash take her hand.

They walked quietly for a minute or two, Ash deep in thought, before the girl suddenly spoke up.

"Let's not go this way," she pulled her mother to a detour, and Mark followed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's demons. They're far away but there's too many for me, I think."

_Yes, there are too many. With this detour, you are perfectly safe. You would have been safe without it._

_I don't want to risk anything..._

"Too many for you? They're dangerous?"

"If there's a lot of them... but if there's a lot of them, they're easy to sense. I'm not scared of them," Ash replied, firmly.

"Hmm..." Andrea pulled Ash closer.

It wasn't long before they got back, despite the detour, walking in silence—they had hardly skimmed the surface of everything that needed to be said, to be talked about, but they had had enough for now.

Mark parted ways with them at last, giving a brief farewell after confirming the next day's plans, and vanishing down the dark street.

Ash and Andrea walked up the steps to the Channels' house, Ash unlocked the door, and they were finally safe.

* * *

…

* * *

Juan, slouching bored behind the bar, watched the last few patrons on their last few drinks, waiting to go home. She nursed her worries instead of a drink, listening to the music.

A commotion from the back room caught her attention, and she straightened her posture in readiness, glad for a distraction. Mars, the other bartender, burst through the door, hurrying around to the front of the bar and motioning for one of the customers to follow him. She recognised the young man as one of Mars's usual gang, and felt her curiosity grow. _Nothing exciting has happened in years._

As they hurried past her to the back room again, she grabbed Mars's arm.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Uh, it's kinda urgent... I'll tell you when it's calmed down, ok?" he shook free.

She sighed, letting him leave, "fine..."

She leaned against the bar, drumming her fingers on its smooth surface. She sighed again. Now that she knew there was something to look forward to, the wait had suddenly gotten worse. Listening hard, the bartender tried to overhear something. Anything. _No chance._

She went to retrieve the recent absentee's hastily finished glass, bringing it back and spending a minute washing it, adding it to the pristine rows under the bar. She wiped the bar down, though it hardly needed it.

Huffing in annoyance, she tapped her foot, watching two more patrons leave. Only three left. She paced up and down, stopping to listen again, pointless though it may be. She turned the music down. She grabbed a stool and sat down, ignoring the part of her that cared about professionalism.

The door opened again, and she perked up, _at last._

Mars came back out, his face tight with excitement, and sat next to her behind the bar. He shook his head when she looked at him expectantly, saying to wait for the last customers to leave.

Four minutes later, the last pair exited the bar. Juan stilled in anticipation, and Mars immediately started talking excitedly.

"They say Felwater is dead," Juan's eyes widened, "his _harem_," he spat the word, "escaped, and you know what they were saying?"

"Of course I don't know, do you expect me to guess?" she responded sharply.

He barked a laugh, in too high spirits to care, "they were saying a little chit of a girl rescued them! Smashed bars and chains and threw guards left and right, and even better, she could keep them free from the control!"

Releasing a breath in surprise, Juan sat back, stunned. Her mind jumped to the incredible girl she had met earlier that night, _Ash, wasn't it?_ She recalled what she had told the girl, about using her power. She looked at Mars as she concentrated, remembering that she had prompted the girl to come to the bar again, but had not arranged a way to contact her outside of that.

Still, this was an opportunity, and she recognised that. Something special had fallen into her lap, it was obvious, and so Juan calmed herself, and Juan _thought_.


End file.
